The value of time
Wednesday 24 August 2011
There was a tiny, almost inaudible knock at the door. “Yes,” grumbled Sam from behind the desk.
The door opened and Sam’s young son, Chris, poked his head into the study. “Dad?” he asked.
“What is it?” Sam answered, never taking his eyes off the computer screen in front of him.
Chris walked across the room and placed his piggy bank on his father’s desk. The bank had a note on it that read: Disney World Vacation Spring 2005. “It’s full now,” the child murmured.
“That’s great. Can we talk about this later, though?” Sam asked. “I’m in the middle of something right now. Remember – a closed door means that Daddy is busy and should not be disturbed.”
“I remember,” Chris nodded. “And I also remember that your time is val-u-a-ble, too. That’s why I brought my money.” The boy placed his favourite storybook on the desk, next to the bank. “If I pay you for your time, will you read to me?”
Sam blushed. Yes, indeed, he’d managed to make his son understand that time is money.
But at what cost? He turned off his computer and reached for Chris. “Come here,” Sam said.
He scooped the boy into his lap and hugged him. “I guess I forgot to tell you the absolutely most important thing to remember.”
“What’s that, Daddy?”
“The time we spend together is priceless.” And, for the first (but not last) time, Sam began to read Chris’s favourite storybook to him.
Anon