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after supper, my father leaves the table fight away and starts to water his dear flowers on the balcony every day.
he takes his sprayer in his hand, appreciating their beauty and smelling their fragrance. sometimes he smiles at the flowers, as if he is talking with them. mom washes the dishes, cleans up the floor and at the same time singing beijing opera. sometimes she stops to ask me how i do in my school. after supper, i play the piano for two hours. what a happy life we live.