一日，我正在作画，女儿蒙蒙走到我跟前，塞给我一张纸，冲我粲然一笑：“爸爸，给你看样东西。”我打开一看，原来是一段写我的文字。女儿眼中的爸爸会是怎样的呢？文字不长，兹照录如下：
　　小时候，别人总会问我：
　　“蒙蒙，你爸爸画的这是什么呀？”
　　“对呀，对呀，都看不懂？”
　　“你们当然看不懂了，只有我看得懂！”这或许是一种自豪吧。到了长大一些，我便知道了老爹的画是怎样一种流派，虽然懵懂的我看不懂老爹的画上画的到底是人还是动物，抑或是风景，但是，我知道了，这是艺术。可能那时的我连艺术为何物都不知，但我知道，就像老爹的画一样，丰富的色彩，大气的手笔，有一种浪漫，一种温馨，一种美的传递……
　　有一回，斗胆问老爹：“老爸，您这画的到底是什么呀？”
　　老爹笑意盈盈：“你能把它想象成什么就是什么呗！”
　　“那我看这是一只大象，嗯……这还有一只猴子。咦？连草原的神驹也来啦！”
　　“哈哈，我的画都成了动物园啦？”
　　似乎看着老爹的画还可以丰富想象力呢！对老爹的画，有一种回家的感觉，因为温馨，所以快乐；因为快乐，所以生活中的点滴都属于老爹。因为印象中，画印象画的老爹是如此的热爱生活，用他娴熟的笔法，表现得淋漓尽致！
　　看了这段文字，我对女儿报以莞尔一笑，心头涌起一股温馨的热流。其实，不管女儿写的是什么，我都在意。
　　有女儿真好。我想。
　　One day, when I was drawing, my daughter Meng meng walked to me, thrust a piece of paper into my arms and smiled: "Dad, I want you to see something." I unfolded the paper and found some passages about me. What was I like in my daughter's eyes? Her words were not long and are as the following:
　　When I was a little girl, people always asked me:
　　"Meng meng, what exactly does your father draw?"
　　"Yeah, yeah, we can't understand."
　　I answered: "Of course, you can't. I am the only one who can understand my dad's painting."
　　Maybe it is a kind of vanity or pride. When I grew up, I gradually came to knew to which school father's works belonged, though I was still puzzling about the things on the canvas. Were they human, animals or sceneries? The only thing I could be certain was that it was art. But what was art is another question for me. However I knew that my father's paintings were colorful, magnificent, romantic, and cozy --- a transmission of beauty.
　　One day I dared to ask Dad: "Papa, what exactly are you drawing?"
　　Dad smiled and answered: "It's all depends on your imagination."
　　"Well, I think it is an elephant…and a monkey. Ha, even the horse of the big prairie is here."
　　"Haha, then I am drawing a zoo?"
　　So it seems that appreciating Dad's paintings could improve one's imagination. I have a sense of going home while watching his pictures. I am happy because of the warmness, and it is all due to Dad's work. In my opinion, my impressionist Dad expresses his love of life so thoroughly through his paintbrushes.
　　I smiled to my daughter after reading all the above sentences, and felt my heart was surged with warmness. Actually, no matter what my daughter writes, I will always appreaciate.
　　It is really wonderful to have a daughter. I think.