When I was about 13, my dad often took me out for a walk on Saturdays. On the way home, Dad usually stopped at the Dairy Queen in the corner and bought me a 10-cent ice cream. Gradually, I began to enjoy and expect the1 when we got to that corner. As we arrived there, we would either go2 for my favorite ice cream or turn and go home empty-handed. That corner3 either mouth-watering excitement or disappointment.
On one special day, we were heading home, and again I was praying for(祈求) the beautiful sound of Dad's4 . Then it came, "Would you like an ice cream today?"
"That5 great, Dad!"
But then he said, "Would you like to6 this time?"
Twenty cents! I was not willing to do that,7 I could afford it—I got some pocket money, plus some extra for part-time jobs. But since it was my money, I suddenly felt ice cream wasn't a good use of it. So I8 Dad and said carefully, "Well, in that case, I9 I will pass. I don't10 eating one today."
"Okay, son," my dad just said. Then we went on our way.
But when we headed home, I11 for my selfishness and realized how wrong I was. So I begged Dad to turn back, yet he just said, "That is okay. I don't really need one." I felt12 for my act, though Day didn't mind.
However, from then on, I learned to be generous.
I will tell you one more thing. We went on another trip next week. As we approached(接近) the corner, I took the13 and said, "Did, would you like an ice cream today? My treat." Then I saw a big smile on Dad's face, and he gave me a big 14 .
Gratefulness sometimes costs more than "thank you". In fact, an ice cream may 15 !
