Todays Helping of Chicken Soup for the Soul

[Guest guest]

Just A Few More Minutes

By Sara

" 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? "