I'm so sorry

When I was little, I liked following Grandma, and I lived in the compound. At the Mid-Autumn Festival, a large table was set up in the well, full of fruits and pastries, and after that it was the happiest time for the children, chasing the fun scenes, and many more cakes that they could not normally eat. When they grew up, the families lived in buildings, but the smell of the festival was much less. Maybe it's because of the small family now, or because the pastry is now bought. On weekends, brothers and sisters gathered for dinner to talk about the kind of fun and sweetness that they used to make in the kitchen when they were little, and the family started blowing up peanuts, fried sesame, and noodles, and stuffed dumplings. Mom makes the prettiest souffles, sizes are equal, and there's a nice tattoo on the edge, and he who doesn't know how to do it. The oil pots together, a bite of the crumbs, the sweetness of the syrup, the smell of the peanuts and the sesame, make you fragrance. Little dumplings, they can't stop eating, they're delicious。