一声微弱的哭泣刺破了卧室的寂静。我机械地挪动步子,走在卧室到儿童室的通道上,就像一个被战争折磨得筋疲力尽的士兵。钟表上的数字发出冷冷的绿光,凌晨4点02分,母亲节。小声的哭泣突然变成了号哭,在暗夜里听起来特别响亮。她绝不是饿了。2点50分的时候她刚刚吃饱,这次是要方便了。这是今天晚上的第三次。 A weak cry pierced the silence of the bedroom. I mechanically moved the steps and walked from the bedroom to the passage of the children’s room, like a soldier who had been so exhausted by the war. The numbers on the clock emit cold green, at 4:02 am, Mother’s Day. Whisper cry suddenly became a cry, it sounds particularly loud in the dark. She is by no means hungry At 2:50 she has just had enough to eat, this time it is convenient. This is the third time tonight.