三四岁时,我一直生活在奶奶身边,“书”这个字很少在我耳边响起来。可实际上,我天天接受“无字书”的熏陶:“燕呀燕,飞上天,天门弯,飞落山,山头白,飞入麦,麦头摇,飞过桥……”这些美妙的民间童谣至今还萦绕在我耳旁。直到六岁那年,我来到妈妈身边,妈妈到书店给我买了几本故事书。每天晚上,还不识字的我依偎在妈妈身边,听她绘声绘色地讲一个个有趣的小故事,时而笑得咯咯响,时而急得直皱眉。继而,我在妈妈 When I was three or four, I had been living with my grandma, and the word “book” seldom rings in my ear. In fact, I accept the “no word book” nurturing every day: "Yan Ye Yan, fly to heaven, Tianmen bend, flying down the mountain, white hill, fly into the wheat, wheat head shake, fly over the bridge ... These wonderful folk nursery rhymes still linger in my ears. Until I was six years old, I came to my mother, mother to the bookstore bought me a few story books. Every night, I am not literate I nestled in the mother’s side, listen to her vividly tell a funny story, sometimes smiling giggle, sometimes anxious frown. Then, I’m mom