Five More Minutes
Five More Minutes
While at the park one day, a woman sat down next to a man on a bench near a playground. “That’s my son over there,” she said, pointing to a little boy in a red sweater who was gliding down the slide.
“He’s a fine looking boy,” the man said. “That’s my son on the swing in the blue sweater.” Then, looking at his watch, he called to his son. “What do you say we go, Todd?”
Todd pleaded, “Just five more minutes, Dad. Please? Just five more minutes.” The man nodded and Todd continued to swing to his heart’s content.
Minutes passed and the father stood and called again to his son. “Time to go now?”
Again Todd pleaded, “Five more minutes, Dad. Just five more minutes.” The man smiled and said, “Okay.”
“My, you certainly are a patient father,” the woman responded.
The man smiled and then said, “My older son Tommy was killed by a drunk driver last year while he was riding his bike near here. I never spent much time with Tommy and now I’d give anything for just five more minutes with him. I’ve vowed not to make the same mistake with Todd.
“He thinks he has five more minutes to swing. The truth is . . .
I get five more minutes to watch him play.”
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