550 words in the sixth grade composition of primary school: the trouble of being an uncle

Topic of composition: the troubles of being an uncle

Keywords: 550 words in the sixth grade of Dashu Primary School

Words: 550 words composition

This article applies to: the sixth grade of primary school.

Composition source:

This composition is about 550 words in the sixth grade of primary school. The title is "The Trouble of Being an Uncle". Everyone is welcome to contribute enthusiastically.

Keywords: when the uncle's troubles

The trouble of being an uncle

I'm already an uncle, a veritable little uncle. Because I have a little nephew named Xiao.

Yu, he is five years old this year. He is lively and lovely. However, don't think it feels good to be an uncle.

Sometimes it is annoying.

Take me playing Go with him, for example. I am an experienced chess player in the Go class at school, but

When I play with him (he is too weak in my eyes), I always "lose" to him, otherwise he will cry.

Whenever this time, my mother is urging me to make way for him. I have no choice but to make way for him. Who told me I was?

Where is uncle? In fact, in the chess game I "lost" to him, I only succeeded once. Besides, he hasn't finished yet.

Knowing all the rules of Go, he couldn't wait to eat my chess pieces when he saw that there was one breath left. Finally, I just ...

The "losing" mess made my chess player "defeated". You say, this feeling

Okay？

At dinner, we lived in peace. He eats vegetables and I eat meat, each to his own advantage, so,

We killed a table in 10 to 15 minutes. I feel the best at this time.

When playing, I have to give way to him. Every time he chooses toys, what about me? You can only bring some beer.

Rotten toys, I'll clean the room after that.

Once, we went to pick strawberries, and I resolutely walked into the scattered soil alone, but he was very comfortable.

Yi, like a big man, sat in that small chair with his legs crossed and his hopeful eyes open.

Staring at me, hoping I can pick a good one and give him half. I can't stand it.

He used his proud eyes.

God gave me a look, and I immediately flew into a rage and roared, "Pick it yourself if you want!" "

"Believe him, he will.

"Wow ..." I began to cry, but at this moment, my mother kept staring at me maliciously, so I had to

He went up and gave him half of the strawberries. Only then did he turn anger into joy.

Do you think I am a good uncle? But no matter how sad I am, I still like him.