Lin Guagua and Her Fun Dad-Mom, You're So Annoying (Volume 3)

Author: Zhao Jing
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-06-01
Features: The class was swept by a "foot reflexology" craze---Don't think kids know nothing. "Take off your shoes quickly, I guarantee you'll scream in comfort." Dad stood on the side, urging me to take off my shoes with all his might. I twisted my own ten toes inside my shoes and said, "I'm not falling for your trick. I finally took you to the park, and now you want to play some crazy game." Dad sighed and said, "It's all my fault for letting you be tricked too many times. Now, the side effects are showing." I thought, "What's with the act of being so upset! This time, I'm definitely not falling for it." Seeing me put on a defensive pose, Dad extended one finger of his right hand and shook it, emphasizing, "At least, you have to believe me this last time." I couldn't count how many "last times" there were. What I hated most about him was when he drew cat whiskers on me; that was definitely a classic joke for my classmates throughout elementary school.
Two years ago, when I was in second grade, Mom kept nagging about how I didn't wash my face properly. But all the kids in my class did it the same way—it wasn't a big deal, not like not doing homework properly. Besides, mornings were so precious that we couldn't spend all of it washing our faces. With her and nagging habits, Mom always had to point fingers at me, saying I washed my face worse than a cat. By the way, the popular (at least in our class) way of washing was: After waking up, stumbling and bumping into the sink, turning on the faucet, sticking out the index and middle fingers of my right hand, and splashing some water around my eyes. Then, I'd rub three circles clockwise, three circles counterclockwise around both eyes. After changing the water, I'd repeat the same steps. Mom saw her nagging wasn't working, so she had Dad step in to solve the problem once and for all. Unsurprisingly, the usually lazy Dad agreed, probably because he couldn't take Mom's nagging anymore. That's how the farce began—a farce that would be unforgettable for me, my elementary school teachers, and my classmates.
That night, Dad took advantage of Mom's business trip and, while I was asleep, drew three curly black lines on both sides of my mouth—just like cat whiskers. The next day, I went to school without washing my mouth but only my eye circles. When my classmates were laughing hysterically, I finally realized why my was so high on the way to school. I'm sure you would have cried instead of laughed if you were in my shoes.
After that, I, who had no strange habits before, developed a "mirror-checking habit." That is, whether I needed to or not, I'd always pull out a small mirror and examine my face, afraid that three long whiskers would suddenly appear on both sides of my mouth. P1-2