When I was a kid I loved bags, and when I was a kid, my mom used to make me a bag of flowers. And my home doesn't have a sewing machine, it's handmade by my mom. It's amazing. It's beautiful. One time I took my mother's pocket to school, and I didn't show off on purpose, except that my classmates saw me and asked me where I bought it, and I said my mom made it with a rag. I didn't think the little partners would go home to find a piece of cloth and get their mothers to sew their bags, but not everyone would, so my mom asked a lot of them to learn how to make them. Remember that time when I heard my little friends envious that my mother was the one who was the smartest, and the aunts who heard the kids say, "Mom give me one, too, and the mother who was the one who did it." Ah, and then I was influenced by my mom, and I liked to do handwork, especially sewing, and make a lot of clothes for dolls, and the ideal was to be a tailor. Ha, ha, this little bag has brought me back to my childhood memories. This time, I made a small bag that I could eat, a evaporated little dessert made of pastry powdered rice and powdered cocoa milk, like a skin made of ice-covered mooncakes, and I squeezed a little bag with soy sauce in it, which was delicious and beautiful (but there was only cocoa powder, the only colored food in the house, and the color of the bag was not very attractive). Not only is it delicious, but it's full of childhood memories。
