摘要：晨光刚给大海描上金边，辰辰的凉鞋就陷进了大梅沙的沙子里。他忽然按住被海风吹得哗哗响的画本："妈妈快看！那朵胖云在画绵羊！"
颂明&深探合作之深圳童话1001夜·第14章
辰辰家的“童话坊”
晨光刚给大海描上金边，辰辰的凉鞋就陷进了大梅沙的沙子里。他忽然按住被海风吹得哗哗响的画本："妈妈快看！那朵胖云在画绵羊！"
妈妈蹲下来顺着他的手指望去："可是宝贝，你觉不觉得……"她突然指向碎银般闪烁的海面，"那片浪花也在临摹同样的绵羊呢？"
辰辰立刻掏出彩虹铅笔，在画本上沙沙写道：
云儿，是天空的神奇画家， 浪花，是海里的梦幻画家。
云儿铺开碧蓝如宝石的天空画板， 挥动无形画笔，绘出洁白羊群悠悠闲逛， 勾勒雄伟群山连绵起伏， 再添上五彩斑斓的绮霞肆意绽放。
浪花依托辽阔似明镜的大海画纸， 舞动灵动笔触，描出天上同款的洁白羊群， 临摹连绵不绝的雄伟群山， 也晕染出那如梦似幻的绚丽彩霞。
云儿气鼓鼓地朝着大海叫嚷： “哼，你分明抄袭了我的杰作！” 大海也不甘示弱地回应： “我才是原创，抄袭的是你呐！”
云儿气得脸儿都变黑啦， 豆大的雨点如断了线的珠子， 一场倾盆大雨，把天空的画作全冲刷。
雨过天晴，像桥的彩虹在天边高挂， 一头轻触着蓝天的温柔，一头亲吻着大海的宽广。 浪花盈盈笑着说： “其实呀，我们本就是一家。 不信呀，你去问问咱们共同的妈妈。”
妈妈接过画本，用口红在上面划了道线："我们把'画家'换个魔法点的称呼好不好？"她轻轻念出修改版：
《天空与海的画本》
云朵是天空的调色师，
浪花是大海的速写家。
云朵铺开晨光做的画纸，
用风的手指画：
画一群会走路的棉花糖，
画会变魔术的山峦影子，
最后打翻夕阳的颜料罐，
让整片天空流淌蜜糖。
浪花在月光熨平的海面，
用潮汐的笔尖描：
描会跳舞的云朵倒影，
描沉入水底的群山轮廓，
再搅碎一船星辉，
撒成粼粼的碎钻银河。
云朵急得卷起裙摆：
"你偷看我的画本！"
海浪哗啦啦翻动书页：
"明明是你学我！"
天空开始擦橡皮擦，
擦出一场透明的珍珠雨，
把所有线条都淋成水墨。
直到彩虹像装订线，
把两幅画缝成一本——
浪花托起海螺话筒：
"我们的故事呀，
都写在风的日记里。
不信你听，
每页都盖着太阳的印章。"
正在整理渔具的爸爸突然插话："我倒觉得……"他掏出个海螺扣在辰辰耳边，"听见了吗？美人鱼在催我们押韵呢！"说着即兴朗诵：
《天空与海的画本》
云朵是天空的调色匠，
浪花是海洋的印刷厂。
云朵铺开晨曦的纸张，
蘸着南风画形状——
画会散步的棉花糖，
画变魔术的山脊梁，
不小心碰翻晚霞缸，
天空流淌橘子酱。
浪花铺开月光的绸缎，
摇着潮汐做印章——
印会跳舞的云衣裳，
印水底下的山模样，
再撒一把星子当，
海面缀满碎银两。
云朵急得卷波浪：
"你偷学我的新花样！"
海浪晃着月光盏：
"我的画被美人鱼收藏！"
天空擦起橡皮擦，
落下透明的珍珠纱，
把线条都淋成水墨画。
直到彩虹弯成线，
将两幅画订成篇——
浪花举起贝壳片：
"我们的故事签，
藏在风的日记间。
不信你看每页边，
太阳盖着金圆圈。"
辰辰眼睛亮得像刚捞起的海玻璃："哇！我们家成了童话坊，爸爸把美人鱼都请来当评委啦！"他突然跳起来，沙滩上留下串小脚印："我要把彩虹装订线画出来！"
夕阳把三个人的影子拉得老长，在沙滩上变成了一本巨大的童话书。妈妈发现辰辰正偷偷比较影子——爸爸的像提着颜料桶的调色匠，妈妈的像夹着素描本的速写家，而他自己的影子...
"我是童话坊的小掌柜！"辰辰咯咯笑着，把全家人的诗稿塞进海螺里，"明天涨潮时，鲸鱼会来取稿费呢！"
妈妈变魔术般掏出个防水袋："那得先给我们的海螺出版社设计封面呀。"浪花哗啦一声扑上岸，给三人脚踝盖上湿漉漉的印章。
"The Story Workshop of Chenchen's Family"
As dawn painted golden edges on the sea, Chenchen's sandals sank into the sand of Dameisha Beach. Suddenly, he pressed down on his sketchbook, rustling in the sea breeze, and exclaimed, "Mom, look! That chubby cloud is drawing sheep!"
Mom crouched down, following his pointing finger, then suddenly gestured toward the shimmering, silver-flecked waves: "But sweetheart, don’t you think... those waves are copying the same sheep?"
Chenchen immediately pulled out his rainbow pencil and scribbled in his sketchbook:
Clouds are the wondrous painters of the sky,
Waves are the dreamy artists of the sea.
Clouds unfurl their canvas—sapphire like a gem,
Sweeping invisible brushes to paint fluffy sheep grazing,
Sketching towering mountain ranges,
Then splashing vibrant sunsets in full bloom.
Waves spread their paper—vast as a mirror,
Dancing with nimble strokes to mirror the same white sheep,
Copying the endless mountain peaks,
And blending those dreamlike, dazzling hues.
The cloud puffed up and shouted at the sea:
"Hmph! You clearly copied my masterpiece!"
The sea shot back without hesitation:
"I’m the original—you’re the thief!"
The cloud darkened with rage,
Raindrops fell like scattered beads,
A downpour washed the sky’s artwork clean away.
After the rain, a rainbow bridge arched high,
One end brushing the sky’s tenderness, the other kissing the sea’s vastness.
The waves giggled and said:
"Truth is, we’ve always been one family.
If you don’t believe, ask our shared mother."
Mom took the sketchbook and drew a line with her lipstick: "What if we replace 'painters' with something more magical?" She softly read the revised version:
The Sketchbook of Sky and Sea
Clouds are the sky’s colorists,
Waves are the sea’s sketchers.
Clouds spread their canvas woven from morning light,
Painting with the wind’s fingers:
Cotton candy that walks,
Mountain shadows that perform magic,
Then tipping over sunset’s paint jars,
Letting the sky drip with honey.
Waves smooth the sea under moonlight’s iron,
Tracing with the tide’s pen:
Dancing reflections of clouds,
Sunken outlines of mountains,
Then shattering a boatload of starlight,
Scattering it into a galaxy of glittering diamonds.
The cloud frills its skirt in protest:
"You peeked at my sketchbook!"
The waves flip their pages noisily:
"No, you copied me!"
The sky starts erasing,
Raining down transparent pearls,
Until every line bleeds into watercolor.
Then the rainbow stitches the two together—
The waves lift a seashell microphone:
"Our story,
Is written in the wind’s diary.
If you don’t believe,
Every page bears the sun’s seal."
Dad, who had been sorting fishing gear, suddenly chimed in: "I think..." He pressed a seashell to Chenchen’s ear. "Hear that? The mermaids are urging us to rhyme!" Then he improvised:
Clouds are the sky’s color-masters,
Waves are the ocean’s print-presses.
Clouds spread their paper of dawn’s glow,
Dipping south winds to draw—
Cotton candy out for a stroll,
Mountain ridges that shape-shift,
Then knocking over sunset’s jars,
Till the sky flows with orange marmalade.
Waves roll out moonlit silk,
Swaying tides to stamp—
Dancing cloud-garments,
Sunken mountain silhouettes,
Then sprinkling stardust,
Turning the sea into scattered silver coins.
The cloud curls in outrage:
"You stole my new designs!"
The waves clink moonlit cups:
"Mine are kept in mermaids’ collections!"
The sky rubs out its work,
Dropping pearl-veils,
Till every stroke melts into ink-wash.
Then the rainbow binds the pages tight—
The waves raise a shell:
"Our signed stories,
Hide in the wind’s diary.
See the gilded edges?
Each bears the sun’s gold ring."
Chenchen’s eyes sparkled like sea glass: "Wow! Our home’s become a Story Workshop—Dad even invited mermaids as judges!" He suddenly jumped up, leaving tiny footprints in the sand: "I’m going to draw the rainbow binding thread!"
The setting sun stretched their three shadows long, turning them into a giant storybook on the beach. Mom noticed Chenchen secretly comparing them—Dad’s shadow looked like a colorist carrying paint buckets, Mom’s like a sketcher with a notebook, and his own...
"I’m the little keeper of the Story Workshop!" Chenchen giggled, stuffing the family’s poems into a seashell. "When the tide rises tomorrow, the whales will come to collect our royalties!"
Mom magically pulled out a waterproof bag: "Then we’d better design a cover for our Seashell Publishing House first." A wave rushed ashore, stamping their ankles with a glistening seal.
来源：小说讲坛
