English Original
"Just a few more minutes…please Mommy!"
Although my own children were grown, I turned instinctively toward the little voice. A boy, no more than four, was trailing his mother in a department store, looking longingly at remote control toys. With chubby cheeks and wispy blond hair, he trotted behind her. His boots caught my eye—bright, shiny, Kermit-the-Frog green, new and a bit too big, perfect for the rainy season.
He stopped at a mirror display, admiring his boots with a grin until his mother called. Dressed in a suit, she clicked her heels on the tile, tossing items into her cart as they headed to checkout. I smiled, wondering if she'd just picked him up from daycare after a busy workday. It reminded me of my own hectic days juggling a career and young children—days I now missed.
Leaving the store, I saw a panorama: rain had slowed to a drizzle, creating puddles in the parking lot. Children made beelines for the puddles, only to be scolded and pulled away by their mothers. All except one—the green-booted boy.
He was happily splashing in the largest puddle, oblivious to the rain and crowd, his hair plastered to his head and a huge smile on his face. His mother? She put up her umbrella, adjusted her packages, and simply waited. Not scolding. Not rushing. Just watching.
When she fished her keys from her purse, the boy paused mid-splash. "Just a few more minutes? Please Mommy?" he begged. She hesitated, then smiled. "Okay!" she said, adjusting her packages again. By the time I drove away, they were walking to their car, smiling and talking.
How much time did those "few more minutes" take? Probably five. Not much in a busy day. What a contrast to the other families. Those minutes spoke volumes to the boy about his value to his mother. Nothing was so pressing it couldn't wait for him to try out his new boots—a major event for any four-year-old.
How many times had my children begged for "just a few more minutes"? Had I smiled and waited, or had I scolded?
Just a few more minutes of giggling in the bathtub. So what if bedtime was late?
Just a few more minutes of rocking a sleepy toddler. So what if toys littered the floor?
Just a few more minutes of playing catch. So what if dinner was delayed?
Just a few more minutes of playing dolls. So what if work waited?
Just a few more minutes of catching fireflies. So what if a TV show was on?
Just a few more minutes with them before they grew up and left. So what if career goals were delayed?
Just a few more minutes. Everything I've read about time management for working mothers is summed up in one image: that young mother under her umbrella, arms full, smiling her assent to a wet, green-booted boy who asked the universal question, "Just a few more minutes?"
中文翻译
“再等几分钟……求你了，妈妈！”
尽管我的孩子都已长大，我还是本能地转向那个稚嫩的声音。一个不超过四岁的小男孩，正跟着母亲在一家百货商店里，恋恋不舍地回头望着遥控玩具的展柜。他脸蛋胖乎乎的，淡金色的头发乱蓬蓬的，小跑着跟在母亲身后。他的靴子吸引了我的目光——鲜亮、闪亮、像青蛙科米特那样的绿色，崭新且有点大，正适合雨季。
他在一面全身镜前停下，咧嘴笑着欣赏自己的靴子，直到母亲叫他。母亲穿着套装，高跟鞋在瓷砖地上咔嗒作响，一边往购物车里扔东西，一边和儿子朝收银台走去。我笑了，猜想她是否刚结束繁忙的工作，从日托所接回孩子。这让我想起自己曾经既要全职工作又要照顾两个小孩的忙乱日子——那些我现在怀念的日子。
走出商店，眼前展开一幅全景：雨已转小，停车场里形成了许多水坑。孩子们径直冲向水坑，却立刻被母亲们责骂着拉走。只有一个例外——那个穿绿靴子的小男孩。
他正在最大的水坑里快乐地踩水，全然不顾雨水和来往人群，头发湿漉漉地贴在头上，脸上挂着灿烂的笑容。他的母亲呢？她撑起伞，调整了一下手里的包裹，就这么等着。没有责骂。没有催促。只是看着。
当她从钱包里掏出车钥匙时，男孩停下了踩水的动作。“再等几分钟？求你了，妈妈？”他恳求道。她犹豫了一下，然后笑了。“好吧！”她说着，又调整了一下包裹。等我开车离开时，他们正有说有笑地走向自己的车。
那“几分钟”占用了她多少时间？大概五分钟。在忙碌的一天中不算多。与其他家庭形成了多么鲜明的对比。这几分钟向男孩充分表明了他对母亲有多重要。在她看来，没有什么事紧迫到不能多等几分钟，让年幼的儿子试试他的新靴子——这对任何四岁孩子来说都是件大事。
我的孩子们曾多少次恳求“再等几分钟”？我是像那位绿靴子男孩的母亲一样微笑等待，还是厉声责备？
再等几分钟，享受浴缸里的嬉笑玩水。就算睡觉时间晚一点又怎样？
再等几分钟，摇着昏昏欲睡的幼儿。就算玩具散落一地又怎样？
再等几分钟，玩一会儿接球游戏。就算晚餐晚一点又怎样？
再等几分钟，玩一会儿洋娃娃。就算带回家的工作还摆在桌上又怎样？
再等几分钟，在慵懒的夏夜捕捉萤火虫。就算错过某个电视节目又怎样？
再等几分钟，在他们长大离开前多陪伴他们。就算职业目标推迟一点又怎样？
再等几分钟。我所读过的所有关于职场母亲时间管理的文章，都可以归结为一幅画面：那位年轻的母亲站在伞下，怀里抱着包裹，微笑着同意了一个浑身湿透、穿着绿靴子的小男孩的请求——他问出了那个普天下职场母亲都会遇到的问题：“再等几分钟？”