Just A Few More Minutes 
By Sara Henderson

"Just a few more minutes . . . please, Mommy!"
Although my own children were grown, I found myself turning instinctively 
in the direction of the little voice.  He was trailing after his mother, looking 
reluctantly over his shoulder at a display of remote-control toys in the large 
department store.
He couldn't have been more than four years old.  With chubby 
cheeks and wispy blond hair going in several directions, he trotted behind his 
mother down the main aisle of the department store.  His boots caught my eye.  
They were green.  Really green.  Bright, shiny, Kermit-the-Frog green.  Obviously 
new and a little too big, the boots stopped just below his knees, leaving a 
hint of dimpled legs disappearing into rumpled shorts.  Perfect boots for the 
rainy transition from summer to fall.
He stopped abruptly at a display of full-length mirrors, lifting 
one foot at a time, grinning and admiring his boots until his mother called for 
him to catch up to her.  Dressed in a suit, heels clicking on the tile floor, 
she was tossing items into her cart as she and her son made their way to the 
checkout lanes at the front of the store.
I smiled at the picture he made clumping noisily behind his 
mother.  I found myself wondering if she had just picked him up from daycare after 
a busy day in an office somewhere.  I sighed as I selected an item and put it 
in my own cart.  My days of trying to juggle a full-time job and two small 
children had been busy, sometimes even hectic, but I missed them.

Finishing my own shopping, I forgot about the little boy and his 
mother until I stepped outside the store.  There a panorama unfolded before 
me.  The rain had slowed to a drizzle, perforating the numerous puddles in the 
parking lot.  Several mothers with their small children were hurrying in and 
out of the department store.  The children were, of course, making beelines to the 
puddles that dotted their way from the cars to the store's entrance.  
The mothers were right behind them, scolding.
"Get away from that puddle!"
"You'll ruin your shoes!"
"What's the matter with you?  Are you deaf?  I said, 
GET OUT OF THAT PUDDLE!"
And so it continued.  The children were being pulled away from the 
puddles and hurried along.  All except for one . . . the little green-booted 
boy. He and his mother were not rushing anywhere.  The boy was happily 
splashing away in the largest puddle in the parking lot, oblivious to the rain 
and to the people coming and going.  His wispy hair was plastered to his head and 
a huge smile was plastered on his face.  And his mother?  She put up her 
umbrella, adjusted her packages and waited.  Not scolding, not rushing.  Just 
watching. As she fished her car keys out of her purse, the boy, hearing the 
familiar jingling, paused in mid-splash and looked up.
"Just a few more minutes?  Please, Mommy?" he begged. She hesitated, and then she 
smiled at him. "Okay!" she responded and adjusted her packages again.
By the time I got to my car, loaded my packages and was ready to 
ease out of my parking space, the green-booted boy and his mother were walking 
toward their car, smiling and talking.  How many times had my own children begged for 
"just a few more minutes"?  
Had I smiled and waited like the mother of the green-booted boy?  Or had I scolded?
Just a few more minutes of giggling and splashing in the bathtub.  So what 
if bedtime got pushed back a little?
Just a few more minutes of rocking a sleepy toddler.  So what if toys were 
strewn around the room, littering the floor?
Just a few more minutes of life with them before they were grown and gone.  
So what if my career goals didn't fit my original timeline?
Just a few more minutes.  Everything I have read about time management for 
working mothers can be summed up in one picture.  The picture of that 
young mother standing under her umbrella, arms full of packages, smiling at a 
wet, green-booted boy who had asked her the universal time-management 
question for working mothers everywhere, 
"Just a few more minutes?"

>From chicken soup of the soul 


---------------------------------
Do you Yahoo!?
Find out what made the Top Yahoo! Searches of 2003

Kirim email ke