Two things changed my life: my mother and a white plastic bike basket. I have thought long and hard about it and it's true. I would be a different person if my mom hadn't turned a silly bicycle accessory into a life lesson I carry with me today.

My mother and father were united in their way of raising children, but it mostly fell to my mother to actually carry it out. Looking back, I honestly don'tknow how she did it. Managing the family budget must have been a very hard task,but she made it look effortless. If we complained about not having what another kid did, we'd hear something like, “I don't care what so –and –so got for his birthday, you are not getting a TV in your room a car for your birthday a lavish sweet-16 party.” We had to earn our allowance by doing chores around the house. I can still remember how long it took to polish the legs of our coffee table. My brothers canno doubt remember hours spent cleaning the house .Like the two little girls growing up at the White House, we made our own beds (no one left the house until that was done) and picked up after ourselves. We had to keep track of our belongings, and if something was lost, it was not replaced.

It was summer and ,one day ,my mother drove me to the bike shop to get a tire fixed—and there it was in the window, White, shiny, plastic and decorated with flowers ,the basket winked at me and I knew —I knew—I had to have it.

       “It's beautiful,” my mother said when I pointed it out to her,” What a neat basket.”

       I tried to hold off at first, I played it cool for a short while. But then I guess I couldn't at and it any longer: “Mom, please can I please, pleaseget it? I‘ll do extra chores for as long as you say, I'll do anything, but I need that basket, I love that basket. Please, Mom .Please?”

         I was desperate.

      “You know,” she said, gently rubbing my back while we both staredat what I believes was the coolest thing ever,” If you save up you could buy thisyourself.”

“By the time I makeenough it'll but gone!”

      “Maybe Roger here could hold it for you,” she smiled at Roger, thebike guy.

“He can't hold it for that long, Mom. Someone else will buy it .Please,Mom, Please?”

      “There might be another way,” she said.

And so our paying plan unfolded. My mother bought the beautiful basket and put it safely in some hiding place I couldn't find. Each week I eagerly counted my growing saving increased by extra work here and there (washing the car ,helpingmy mother make dinner, delivering or collecting things on my bike that already looked naked without the basket in front).And then ,weeks later ,I counted ,re-counted and jumped for joy. Oh, happy day! I made it! I finally had the exact amount we'dagreed upon….

       Days later the unthinkable happened. A neighborhood girl I'd played with millions of times appeared with the exact same basket fixed to her shiny, new bike that already had all the bells and whistles. I rode hard and fast home to tell my mother about this disaster. This horrible turn of events.

And then came the lesson. I've taken with me through my life: ”Honey,Your basket is extra-special,” Mom said, gently wiping away my hot tears.” Yourbasket is special because you paid for it yourself.”

    In England, people often talk about the weather because they can experience (经历) four seasons in one day. In the morning the weather is warm just like in spring. An hour later black clouds come and then it rains hard. The weather gets a little cold. In the late afternoon the sky will be sunny, the sun will begin to shine, and it will be summer at this time of a day.

    In England, people can also have summer in winter, or have winter in summer. So in winter they can swim sometimes, and in summer sometimes they should take warm clothes.

    When you go to England, you will see that some English people usually take an umbrella (伞)or a raincoat with them in the sunny morning, but you should not laugh at them.

    If you don't take an umbrella or a raincoat, you will regret (后悔) later in the day.

    A Japanese telecom company has designed a robot that it says has emotions (情绪). But rather than run in fear from it, we've welcomed it into our homes: Pepper, the "emotional robots" sold out within a minute of going on sale.

    Created by Aldebaran Robotics and Japanese mobile giant SoftBaok, Pepper went on sale to the general public in Japan on June 20. It is "the first humanoid (类人的) robot designed to live with humans, " Aldebaran says on its website. Pepper costs about $ 1, 600. And like all good mobile products, there's a $ 120 per month data fee, as well as an $80 per month damage insurance fee. According to a news report, Pepper can pick up on human emotions and create his own using a "multi - layer neural (神经的) network." Pepper's touch sensors and cameras are said to influence its mood, which is displayed on the tablet-sized screen on its chest.

    Pepper will sigh when unhappy, and can go around your house recording your family's daily activity. Aldebaran says Pepper can feel "joy, surprise, anger, doubt and sadness," but it doesn't say how strongly it can feel these emotions. What happens when Pepper is having a bad day? Will it, like many humans, become uncooperative? Will it ask for some time alone? What happens if it knows that its purpose in life is just to take part in small talk? Thankfully, Pepper is only about four feet tall, with roller balls instead of legs, so if it is angry with and even turns on its owners, you'll be safe if you can make it upstairs.

    Aldebaran says in reality, they're probably quite a few years away from artificial intelligence that could create real emotions. Aldebaran wasn't immediately able to tell when Pepper will be available out of Japan, but additional sales are scheduled for July after the first 1, 000 units sell out. SoftBank currently uses the robots in its stores as greeters, and it plans to offer Pepper to other stores in the future. Hopefully "boredom" is not an emotion Pepper can feel.

When I was a kid, my mom liked to make breakfast food for dinner every now and then. And I remember one night in particular when she had made breakfast after a long, hard day at hospital.

On that evening so long ago, my mom placed a plate of eggs, sausage and extremely burned toast in front of my dad. I remember waiting to see if anyone noticed! Yet all my dad did was to reach for his toast, smile at my mom and ask me how my day was at school. I don't remember what I told him that night, but I do remember watching him spread butter and jelly on that toast and eat every bite!

When I got up from the table that evening, I remember bearing my mom apologize to my dad for burning the toast. And I'll never forget what he said: "Honey, I love burnt toast."

Later that night, I went to kiss daddy good night and I asked him if he really liked his toast burnt. He took me in his arms and said, "Your momma put in a hard day at work today and she's really tired. And besides, a little burnt toast never hurt anyone!"

You know, life is full of imperfect things and imperfect people. What I've learned over the years is that learning to accept each other's faults is one of the most important keys to creating a healthy, growing, and lasting relationship. This good quality is the base of any relationship—husband­wife or parent­child or friendship! As far as I'm concerned, I'm not the best engineer as expected. However, I have made my efforts. That's enough.

So learn to take the good, the bad, and the ugly parts of your life. Burnt toast isn't a deal­breaker! Don't put the key to your happiness in someone else's pocket but into your own. You will appreciate the value of every soul including yourself.

My acquaintance, who never excelled in scholastic pursuits, possessed an innate acuity for aesthetic appreciation. On one occasion, I was engaged in the task of arranging a collection of floral blooms within a container, yet was unable to achieve a visually pleasing arrangement. She approached and, with a few deft motions of her hand, metamorphosed the ensemble into an arresting arrangement of blossoms. Upon receiving commendation for this remarkable proficiency, she dismissed the praise with a nonchalant gesture, perceiving her imaginative prowess as unremarkable.

Frequently, we tend to undervalue our innate competencies, perhaps because we are conditioned to regard only those attributes such as superior intellectual capacity, a proclivity for numerical computation, or an extensive lexicon as possessing intellectual merit. I was graced with the opportunity to discern a different perspective at an early stage of my life.

Upon my commencement of secondary education, a vocational advisor informed my parent that I was not suited for higher education due to my lackluster performance in a spelling component of a standardized assessment. Fortunately, my parent recognized the breadth of my intellectual endowments and advocated on my behalf, demanding that I be included in an academically rigorous curriculum. This episode fundamentally shaped the trajectory of my existence, illustrating the significance of not succumbing to the categorizations imposed by others and enabling me to reach my fullest intellectual capacity.

In the nascent years of the 1980s, Howard Gardner, an eminent scholar from Harvard, introduced the groundbreaking notion of "multiple intelligences." In his seminal work, "Frames of Mind: The Theory of Multiple Intelligences," he posited that intelligence transcends the conventional definition and encompasses a diverse spectrum of cognitive faculties.

What captivates me about the theory of multiple intelligences is its capacity to reconceptualize one's own capabilities and innate skills, particularly those that may not conform to the structured confines of academic paradigms. While it is acknowledged that a threshold of intellectual capability is necessary for success, the analytical competencies gauged by I.Q. assessments do not encompass the complete narrative. Hence, we ought to extol all of our talents and competencies, for they constitute the essence of what renders your individual cognitive capacity so extraordinary and distinctive.