The other night， just before retiring， I emptied my pockets onto my bed． Things poured out： keys， loose change， wallet， comb， cell phone， handkerchief， notepad， checkbook， an empty film canister， a pen， an unimportant note to myself， and a stray button I'd been carrying around for months as a reminder to find the garment to which it belonged．
I stood staring down at the pile， wondering， with woe， how life- or my pockets， at least - came to be so filled． I recall remarking to a friend that the biggest difference between being an adult and a child was that， as a kid， my pockets were pretty much empty． And with good reason： I had no money and therefore no wallet． I didn't comb my own hair （that was my mother's job）， and I certainly never wrote notes to myself． As for a handkerchief， why would I need one when I had two ample sleeves？ And buttons？ Well， when they popped off， they popped off．
Although my sons" pockets are mostly unremarkable， I always find more fertile ground in their school backpacks， which serve as a sort of information packets for communication between their teachers and me． Early on I discovered- in an alarming manner-the importance of checking those backpacks every day． Once when my older boy was in second grade， I went searching through his papers． In the midst of notes about the lunch menu， overdue library books， and the promise of a new method of teaching math， I found a brief， neatly printed essay whose post sharp passage was， "I love my dad， even though he beats me all the time．"
I was immediately on my feet． "Alyosha!" I called． "I need to talk to you!"
When he came into the room， he stood before me， smiling angelically． With as much calm as I could show， I cleared my throat and presented the essay to him． "Did you write this？"
He looked it over and nodded．
"How could you write such a tiling？" I said． "You know 1never beat you．"
His response was matter-of-fact． "Sure you do， Dad，" he said． "Every time we play checkers， you beat me．"
After explaining the two meanings of the word， I asked if his teacher had seen the essay． "No，" he said， "It's due tomorrow．"
Needless to say， I used my executive privilege to leave out that particular assignment and became doubly alarmed about checking his backpack from that day on．
When I look back on my own days of empty pockets， I am able to trace a smooth line of acquisition： a comb arrived by fifth grade； my own set of house keys came in middle school； the wallet appeared in high school； at some point a handkerchief took the place of shirtsleeves…And now， here I am， in a state of arrest， my pockets packed so full I can barely sit comfortably．



The best title of this passage is ______ ．

A. Life Filled With Pockets
B. As My Life Expands， My Pocket Fill
C. Pockets And Backpacks
D. Pockets Are Full Of Life

The underlined part fertile ground in the third paragraph most probably means ______ ．

A. poor soil
B. huge field
C. rich contents
D. sports things

By writing this passage， the author intends to suggest that ______ ．

A. his childhood life is poor while his adult life is richer
B. it's important to check children's backpack
C. children's pockets carry more things than adults" pockets
D. childhood life is simple and happy while adults" life is filled with much complex