爷爷保存着好多一指宽、半尺长的工资条,其中年代久远的,已经变了颜色。你可别小看这些扔到地上都没有人会去捡的小纸条,随便捏起一张轻轻抖抖,就能从上面的数字里讲出一段故事。奇怪的是,这些故事好像都长了眼睛,专瞅我在饭桌上的短板。星期天中午吃饭时,面对姥娘烧的香气扑鼻的红烧肉和小白菜炖豆腐,我总也说服不了肚子去欢迎它们。这怪我吗?应该不是。因为同学们在一起议论饭桌上的挑剔时,很少能有让大人们心平气和的。当看到 Grandpa kept a lot of one refers to the width, half-length of the payroll, of which age, has changed color. You can not underestimate these little pieces of paper thrown on the ground will not go to pick up, just pick up a gently shaking, you can tell from the figure above a story. Strangely enough, these stories seem to have been longing for eyes on my short board at the dinner table. At noon on Sunday, when I was having dinner, I tried my best to persuade the braised tofu and braised cabbage in the fragrant aroma of the priest. This blame me? It should not be. Because classmates talked about the fuss at the dinner table, seldom did adults calm down. When you see it