我能再玩一會兒嗎

“媽媽，讓我再看一會兒好嗎？就一小會兒！”

雖然我的孩子已經長大，但是聽到這個聲音，我還是本能地轉過頭去看看怎么回事。一個小男孩掂腳站在百貨公司的遙控玩具陳列架子前，一臉地不情愿。

這個孩子不到4歲，小臉肥嘟嘟的，金色的頭發有些凌亂。他一路小跑地尾隨著媽媽向商場的出口奔去。孩子腳上的靴子引起了我的注意，靴子是大青蛙科米牌（美國一個著名的卡通人物），很正的綠色，又閃又亮。很明顯靴子是新的，還稍稍有點大，靴筒正好在膝蓋下面，肉墩墩的小腿露在皺巴巴的短褲外面。這雙靴子在夏秋交換的季節正好穿。

他突然停在一個通長鏡子前，抬起自己的一只腳，咧開嘴得意洋洋地看著自己的鞋子，很是滿足，直到他媽媽叫他才離開。男孩的媽媽身穿套服，高跟鞋踩在地板上叮當有聲，一邊把想買的物品放進購物車，一邊和兒子走向結帳通道。

我樂呵呵地看著這個胖墩墩的男孩淘氣地跟在媽媽身后。我想是不是他的媽媽剛剛下班把兒子從日托那里接回來。我挑了一件物品放在購物車里，嘆了一口氣。我原來工作很忙，還要照顧兩個孩子，現在想起來，那段時間真的很忙亂，但是我懷念那段歲月，回憶起來也覺得心里暖洋洋的。

買完東西，我似乎已經忘記了剛剛那一對母子，直到走到商店外面，他們的身影才又闖入我的眼簾。天空下起毛毛細雨，雨水填滿了停車場的一個個小坑。許多母子從商店里進進出出，孩子們都徑直跑到水坑里，用腳踩水，把從汽車到商店的路弄得到處都是水，他們的媽媽站在后面開始訓斥：“出來，別在水坑里踩，鞋子都臟啦！”我也跟孩子說：“怎么回事啊？沒聽到你媽媽說話呀？快從水坑里出來吧！”然后，孩子們一個個被家長從水坑里拉出來，又急匆匆地跟在媽媽后面離開。除了一個孩子，那就是穿著漂亮綠色靴子的男孩。他和她的媽媽并沒有到處躲著水坑走，男孩看到最大的一個水坑，雙腳踩到里面，濺出許多水花，全然不顧絲絲雨水和來來回回的人群。他柔軟的頭發隨之起舞，臉上不自覺地洋溢著開心的笑容。她的媽媽就舉著雨傘站在旁邊邊整理剛買來的東西邊等待。沒有斥責也沒有著急地讓孩子離開，只是在旁邊看著。

接著，她從手包里拿出車鑰匙，按響了汽車電子防盜鎖。孩子聽到了熟悉的聲音，停頓了一下，抬起頭來說：“媽媽，我能再玩一會兒嗎？求你了！”

媽媽猶豫片刻，對孩子笑了：“好吧！”她繼續整理物品。

當我把物品放進車子準備開車離開時，看到穿綠靴子的男孩和她媽媽說說笑笑地朝著他們的車子走去。

孩子的媽媽一天能夠擠出多少時間讓孩子多玩一會兒？大概是5分鐘吧。對于忙碌的一天來說，5分鐘并不“奢侈”，所以她比原計劃晚5分鐘回家又怎樣呢？

這個孩子的媽媽與剛剛我看到的其他母親形成了多么強烈的對比啊！孩子們“多玩一會兒”的要求在母親和孩子們建立感情的過程中其實非常重要。母親們不應該著急得連多給孩子幾分鐘去試試他的新鞋的工夫也沒有，要知道這在孩子的心目中是多么重要的一件事。在孩子們成長的過程中，心靈是需要被尊重的。他們從出生起就是一個獨立的個體，有自己獨立的意愿和個性。事實證明，受到父母良好尊重的孩子同父母大多非常合作，他們待人友善、懂禮貌，同大人談話沒有一點局促感，自我獨立意識強。兒童心理學家認為，這些都是孩子們受到應有尊重的良好反應。曾經，我的孩子也總是求我多給他們一些時間，我當時是怎樣做的呢？

允許孩子們再在浴缸里玩會兒水，晚幾分鐘睡覺又會怎樣呢？

再哄著困倦的蹣跚學步的孩子睡一會兒，晚點收拾擺滿了地板的玩具又會怎樣呢？

陪有望成為一投手的孩子們再玩一會兒棒球，晚做一會兒晚飯又會怎樣呢？

再讓孩子們玩一會兒娃娃，就算我帶回家的工作還擺在桌子上那又怎樣呢？

慵懶的夏夜，再陪孩子們多抓幾只螢火蟲，錯過一會兒電視節目又怎樣呢？

在孩子們長大成人、開始獨立生活之前多花些時間陪陪他們，我的職業目標和初始的計劃有少許不同那又如何呢？

僅僅需要多花一點時間。我領悟到一個合理教育孩子的方法，用一個場景即可完全說明。這個場景中，年輕的媽媽站在雨傘下，抱著滿懷的物品，對她那穿著嶄新的綠色靴子、全身濕漉漉的孩子的“我能再多玩一會兒”的要求欣然同意，而且面帶微笑。這給其他不知道怎么安排自己時間的媽媽做了一個多好的榜樣！

［譯自英文閱讀網］

Just A Few More Minutes...

\"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 checks 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 puddlesthat dotted their way from the cars to the store's entrance. The mothers wereright 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 much time did that \"few more minutes\" take out of her day? Probably about five. Not so much time out of a busy day. So what if she got home a little later than she had planned?

What a contrast the boy and his mother were to the other families I had just seen. What volumes that \"few more minutes\" spoke to that little boy about his value to his mother. Nothing in her universe was so pressing that it couldn't wait a few more minutes to let her young son try out his new boots——an important event in the life of How many times had my 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 tossing a baseball to a budding first baseman. So what if dinner was a little late?

Just a few more minutes of playing dolls. So what if the work I brought home was still sitting on the table?

Just a few more minutes of catching fireflies on a lazy summer evening. So what if that certain TV show was on?

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 her assent to a wet， green-booted boy who had asked her the universal time management question for working mothers everywhere， \"Just a few more minutes?\"