It’s not that unusual When everything is beautiful. It’s just another ordinary miracle today.
The sky knows when its time to snow, Don’t need to teach a seed to grow. It’s just another ordinary miracle today.
Life is like a gift they say Wrapped up for you everyday; Open up and find a way To give some of your own.
Isn’t it remarkable? Like every time a rain drop falls, It’s just another ordinary miracle today.
Birds in winter have their fling But always make it home by spring. It’s just another ordinary miracle today. /> When you wake up everyday Please don’t throw your dreams away; Hold them close to your heart Cause we’re all a part Of the ordinary miracle. Ordinary miracle
Do you want to see a miracle? ohh ohh ohh, ohhh ohh ohh...
It seems so exceptional That things just work out after all. It’s just another ordinary miracle today.
Sun comes up and shines so bright And disappears again at night. It’s just another ordinary miracle today. ohh ohh ohh, ohh ohhh ohh... It’s just another ordinary miracle today.
阿小名 发表评论于
哦这首歌也是EvaLuna在YYKD贴过的，真高兴你也喜欢！
水云间~ 发表评论于
很亲切很温馨!配的这首歌真好听,好喜欢~~~下载收藏了!
阿小名 发表评论于
用上了用上了！不停电咱还不会关灯点蜡烛么是吧？
孤草 发表评论于
怎么把题目改了？
你后来蜡烛用到了吗？
阿小名 发表评论于
谁说不是呢！昨天晚上看新闻，说是我们家附近的桥上风速80+ miles per hour，一辆大货柜给刮翻了，我正想着今天上桥去瞅瞅呢。不过这会儿又下上了，我们院儿里的树枝也刮断了几根，电停到我们这一带了，不知道会不会很快轮到我家，我这就买蜡烛去。
今天晚上看来要过得老浪漫了，看来应该顺手买两瓶好酒回来。
graceusa 发表评论于
我本期待今天也是暴风雨，它怎么就停了呢？
太阳冒出来了，特失望。
阿小名 发表评论于
好险啊！刚刚发现我把喷嚏写成了喷涕，还好没有被明小亮和三小丰发现，赶紧改过来。。。
哪小吒，能幸灾乐祸也是福气啊！不，不对，用孤小草等人的说法，是更高阶段，呵呵。
阿小名 发表评论于
意思一样个屁呀（本说法请米小粥等未成年同学慎用）！我要的是另外一篇，你自己转过的，怎么会找不到？！
三丰子 发表评论于
意思一样，凑合着看吧
Does Fatherhood Make You Happy?
Time Magazine, June 19, 2006
Sonora Smart Dodd was listening to a sermon on self-sacrifice when she decided that her father, a widower who had raised six children, deserved his very own national holiday. Almost a century later, people all over the world spend the third Sunday in June honoring their fathers with ritual offerings of aftershave and neckties, which leads millions of fathers to have precisely the same thought at precisely the same moment: “My children,” they think in unison, “make me happy.”
Could all those dads be wrong?
Studies reveal that most married couples start out happy and then become progressively less satisfied over the course of their lives, becoming especially disconsolate when their children are in diapers and in adolescence, and returning to their initial levels of happiness only after their children have had the decency to grow up and go away. When the popular press invented a malady called “empty-nest syndrome,” it failed to mention that its primary symptom is a marked increase in smiling.
Psychologists have measured how people feel as they go about their daily activities, and have found that people are less happy when they are interacting with their children than when they are eating, exercising, shopping or watching television. Indeed, an act of parenting makes most people about as happy as an act of housework. Economists have modeled the impact of many variables on people’s overall happiness and have consistently found that children have only a small impact. A small negative impact.
Those findings are hard to swallow because they fly in the face of our most compelling intuitions. We love our children! We talk about them to anyone who will listen, show their photographs to anyone who will look and hide our refrigerators behind vast collages of their drawings, notes, pictures and report cards. We feel confident that we are happy with our kids, about our kids, for our kids and because of our kids—so why is our personal experience at odds with the scientific data?
Three reasons.
First, when something makes us happy we are willing to pay a lot for it, which is why the worst Belgian chocolate is more expensive than the best Belgian tofu. But that process can work in reverse: when we pay a lot for something, we assume it makes us happy, which is why we swear to the wonders of bottled water and Armani socks. The compulsion to care for our children was long ago written into our DNA, so we toil and sweat, lose sleep and hair, play nurse, housekeeper, chauffeur and cook, and we do all that because nature just won’t have it any other way. Given the high price we pay, it isn’t surprising that we rationalize those costs and conclude that our children must be repaying us with happiness.
Second, if the Red Sox and the Yankees were scoreless until Manny Ramirez hit a grand slam in the bottom of the ninth, you can be sure that Boston fans would remember it as the best game of the season. Memories are dominated by their most powerful—and not their most typical—instances. Just as a glorious game-winning homer can erase our memory of 8 1/2 dull innings, the sublime moment when our 3-year-old looks up from the mess she is making with her mashed potatoes and says, “I wub you, Daddy,” can erase eight hours of no, not yet, not now and stop asking. Children may not make us happy very often, but when they do, that happiness is both transcendent and amnesic.
Third, although most of us think of heroin as a source of human misery, shooting heroin doesn’t actually make people feel miserable. It makes them feel really, really good—so good, in fact, that it crowds out every other source of pleasure. Family, friends, work, play, food, sex—none can compete with the narcotic experience; hence all fall by the wayside. The analogy to children is all too clear. Even if their company were an unremitting pleasure, the fact that they require so much company means that other sources of pleasure will all but disappear. Movies, theater, parties, travel—those are just a few of the English nouns that parents of young children quickly forget how to pronounce. We believe our children are our greatest joy, and we’re absolutely right. When you have one joy, it’s bound to be the greatest.
Our children give us many things, but an increase in our average daily happiness is probably not among them. Rather than deny that fact, we should celebrate it. Our ability to love beyond all measure those who try our patience and weary our bones is at once our most noble and most human quality. The fact that children don’t always make us happy—and that we’re happy to have them nonetheless—is the fact for which Sonora Smart Dodd was so grateful. She thought we would all do well to remember it, every third Sunday in June.
