As I wandered through our living room， picking up toys and blankets， I happened to glance out my second story balcony window. Puddles had formed on the ground and the rain had slowed.
Down below， where the grass met the pavement and a large puddle had formed， stood a boy of about four. He wore a T-shirt and a pair of shorts and up to his knees he sported a pair of red，rubber boots. Filled with a mixture of fascination and glee， he stomped through the puddle，mud and water flying. Over and over he walked， stomped， splashed through that puddle， happily enjoying what Mother Nature had left for him.
Not more than four feet away stood his mother， watching as her son explored his world. She watched as water droplets， airborne because of his stomping， landed on the boy’s head， clothes and body. Mud flecks flew all around him and still she stood and watched with a pleasant smile on her face. To an unnoticing passerby it was just two people going about their day. But from my new found sensitivity to the joys and experiences of motherhood， it was a touching moment that altered the way I will forever view nay role as a mother.
A simple moment in my life made me stop and realize just how important the simple things really are. As the little boy in the rubber boots grows up， he probably will not remember each afternoon that his mother took him outside and let him stomp in the puddles or each bug that she let him stop to touch. He may not remember each little thing that his mother does for him everyday- each time she lets him explore his world. But he will remember that his mother loved him and he will know that she helped him to learn and grow in a pleasant and fun environment.
Maybe we can all learn from the innocence of childhood that views a rainstorm not as something to run through or to avoid， but something meant to fascinate， to explore and to enjoy. Maybe we should all stop to play in the rain more often. Maybe I will learn more and my views will change as my experience of motherhood grows and evolves. But one thing I know for sure. As soon as my son can walk， I am buying him a pair of rubber boots.
生活里的一个小小瞬间也意义非凡。
参考翻译（佚名）
生活中往往有些小事对我们的影响极为重大。小事也能转变我们的人生观，改变我们作决定的方式，并能在脑海中留下难以磨灭的印迹。
九月中旬的一天傍晚，我三岁的儿子正在婴儿床上小睡，而我整个下午都在收拾威斯康星州的新家。那是个雨天，但并不冷，从上午一直到下午都在不停地下着毛毛雨。
我在客厅内整理玩具和毯子时，无意中从二楼阳台的窗户向外瞥了一眼，发现地上都是水坑，雨也小了。
楼下的草坪与路面交接处有一个大水坑，旁边站着一个四岁左右的男孩。他穿着T恤衫和及膝短裤，脚下惹人注目地穿着一双红色的橡胶雨鞋。他兴奋地在水坑里踩来踩去，泥水飞溅。他来回走着，踩着，开心地享受着自然母亲的恩赐。
他的母亲站在离他不到四英尺远的地方，看着儿子探索这个世界，看着飞溅起的水滴落在儿子头上、衣服上和身体上。泥水在他四周飞溅，她却仍然只是站在那儿看，还面带微笑。在一个不留心观察的路人眼中，只不过是两个人在打发他们的日子。但以我初为人母的喜悦和经验所孕育出的敏感来看，这是一个感人时刻，自此它将改变我对身为人母的理解。
生活里的一个小小瞬间，让我驻足思索：小事也意义非凡。小男孩长大后，或许不会记得，妈妈每天下午都带他出门，让他在水坑里踩来踩去，让他停下来摸摸小虫子。他也许不会记得他妈妈每天为他做一件小事--每一次她都让他探寻他的世界。但他不会忘记，妈妈爱他。他知道，妈妈给他营造了一个舒适且充满乐趣的环境供他学习和成长。
或许，在无忧无虑的童年，我们可以学到：不要把暴风雨看做匆匆逃离或躲避的事情，而应陶醉其中，去研究探索，享受品味。或许，我们应该常常停下来，在雨中嬉闹。或许，随着身为人母经验的积累，我也会懂得更多，看问题的方式也将有所改变。但有一点，我确信：等儿子一学会走路，我就给他买双橡胶雨鞋。
Pieces of Time and Pivotal Moments 爱心妈妈二三事AnonymousLife is comprised of pieces of time sprinkled with pivotal moments. Sometimes these moments have immediate impact. Other times， they are slow to manifest and reveal their importance. But if you listen closely to the soft whispers of life， hey will guide you on an unexpected journey filled with beauty， understanding and fulfillment. One such moment occurred for me about eight years ago.
On this particular day， I was helping my mom redo her bedroom. We rearranged the furniture- cleaning and polishing it， and changed the curtains and bedding. Then out came the new floral arrangements， pot- pourri and matching candles. Proudly， we stepped back to admire our work. That‘s when Mom decided we needed a little atmosphere and she lit the candles.
Evidently， there was a residue of cleaning solution on her hands， because the moment she flicked the lighter，flames burst into the air.
Large blisters instantly formed on her hands and she began to shake.
As the tears rolled down her face， she looked up at me and whispered：“The children.”
Those were her first words， not a cry， not a scream， not a curse- “the children.”I panicked. I thought she was in shock. I hurried her into the bathroom to tend to her wounds， but the blisters were so large that she couldn’t move her fingers. I realized I would have to take her to the doctor； I was also concerned about her state of mind. Her response seemed so strange.“Mom， what do you mean， the children？”I asked.
She looked up at me with the sweetest， most sympathetic tear- filled eyes I had ever seen.“The poor children who get burnt.”Then she continued to explain，“I saw it on Oprah. If this is painful for me， how much pain would a child be in？ I feel so sorry for them... what they must go through.”
That was her answer. My mom had second and third degree burns， her hands were swollen， blistered and shaking， but her tears were for the children. Children she saw on Oprah. My thoughts were less pure. At that moment， I didn‘t care about anyone but her.
Four years ago this October， I lost my mom to cancer. True to her nature， she never complained during her illness. Not once. Even in her suffering， she taught me valuable lessons. One of these lessons came when we were in her hospital room waiting for test results. The doctor finally arrived， flew into the room， delivered his devastating news and then abruptly left.
I was shocked， hurt and angry all at the same time. I turned to my mother and said，“I hate him.”She looked at me with her beautiful blue eyes and said：“That’s not nice. He was just doing his job. Can you imagine how hard it must be for him to have to tell his patients bad newslike that？”
Oh， Mom， you certainly were something.
In the years since I lost my mom， things have changed in many ways. There are sorrows and bittersweet longings， but her gentle lessons continue to touch my life and guide me.
