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There he is, my 9-year-old, headed out to greet the day: one red sock, one white; his shoes untied; and wearing his T-shirt inside out, with the tags flapping out. What must the neighbors think?
I’ve tried. I lay out his clothes in the morning at the end of his bed. But when he fi－nally comes out, he has made his own choices.That’s fine with me—but it’s the way he wears those choices that sometimes gives me pause. Such as, when he misbuttoned his shirt one day. I reached out to correct the situa－tion.But he shrank1 back, and yelled out, “I want it that way!” And then there was the winter parka2 on a blistering3 July day. “You’ll roast,” I told him as I held up a nice light mesh4 tank top5, at which he wrin－kled his nose. He went out with that winter coat on. I didn’t know if he was toasted, but he seemed to be enjoying it.
This morning I had laid out on the edge of his bed a pair of brown shorts, a red T-shirt, and two white socks. After he got up, I watched from behind the door how this 9-year-old pulled himself together. He picked up the shorts, considered them, and then uncere－moniously6 dropped them on the floor, electing instead to pull from the hamper7 a pair of soiled, wrinkled plaid8 shorts that had been bound for the washer.
As for the red T-shirt, he didn’t give it a moment’s thought, but rather shoved it under his pillow and took a blue and white-striped button-down shirt from a hanger and carefully unbuttoned it, turned up the collar, and tucked one shirttail9 in, leaving the other hanging out... I couldn’t bear to watch anymore and hurried downstairs.
By the time Anton came out of his room and entered the kitchen, I had had time to prepare my response. But I couldn’t help gasping. Going through my head was, “Hmm. Stripes and plaid. And that shirttail. One red sock, one white. My gosh...” But I checked myself, and happily said, “Good morning, son. You look, er, not bad today.”
As we walked hand in hand through town to his summer day camp, neighbors greeted us amiably10, wondering, perhaps, who had dressed that unfortunate child. I felt like dragging Anton home and forcing my choice of clothes on him.
But I have, over time, learned how to keep peace with Anton and respect his own way of doing things. I believe he does know better. Yet he continues to take the sartorial11 road not traveled.
Although his taste makes people some－times wince12. I realize that these are, at root, the workings of an independent mind, and who knows to what interesting ends his free-willism will lead him? Before I know the answer, I choose to walk with him, my head held high. Let others guess all they want!
九岁的艾顿闪亮登场，全副武装迎接新的一天：一只脚穿白袜子，一只脚穿红袜子；鞋带没系；衬衫领子竖立着，明晃晃的商标展露无余。老天，邻居看了会怎么想？
我曾经试图改善他的外观：把选好的衣服放在他床头。但走出房间时，艾顿穿的还是他自己选的衣服。这倒没什么，只是他的品味令人不敢恭维。比如，有一天他的衬衣纽扣扣错了，我刚要伸手帮他重扣，他赶紧缩身躲过，大声说：“我特意这样扣的！”还有一次，7月的天气，他非要穿一件皮外套。“你会被烤焦的，”我一边告诫他，一边拿出件透气的短袖衫。艾顿不屑一顾，穿着皮外套出门了。他觉不觉得热，我不知道，但一整天他心情都好极了。
今天早晨，我在艾顿床头放了一条棕色的短裤，一件红Ｔ恤衫，一双白袜子。儿子起床后，我从门外静观这个九岁男孩的一举一动。他先抓起短裤，略加考虑后将其扔在地上，然后从脏衣篓里掏出一条脏兮兮、皱皱巴巴的带格子图案的短裤。
红Ｔ恤被他不假思索地塞到了枕头底下。小家伙从壁橱里挑出一件蓝白相间的条纹衬衫，认真地把纽扣系错，翻起领子，把衬衫一角别进短裤，另一角却故意留在外面……我不忍再看下去了，匆匆溜下楼。
等“穿戴整齐”的艾顿走进厨房时，我已经做好了充分的心理准备，但还是倒吸一口冷气，暗暗叫苦：条纹配格子，衬衫里出外进，袜子一红一白，上帝呀！但我没有干涉他，而是开心地说：“早上好，儿子。你今天看起来……嗯……看起来不赖。”
当我和艾顿手挽手走向夏令营地时，邻居跟我们热情地打招呼，他们心里一定在想：是谁帮那可怜的孩子穿的衣服？我委屈极了，真想拖艾顿回家，强迫他换上我配好的那套衣服。
但多年来，我学会了与儿子和平共处的秘诀——尊重他的决定。我相信他是有品味的，但不喜欢墨守成规。虽然他的冒险举动有时令人无法接受，但我知道它们背后藏着一个独立思考的头脑。说不定这种不驯的精神，会把儿子带进一座奇妙的殿堂。在知道答案之前，我选择昂首挺胸跟儿子并肩而行，让别人猜去吧！
盛森 摘译自Moved Stories
I’ve tried. I lay out his clothes in the morning at the end of his bed. But when he fi－nally comes out, he has made his own choices.That’s fine with me—but it’s the way he wears those choices that sometimes gives me pause. Such as, when he misbuttoned his shirt one day. I reached out to correct the situa－tion.But he shrank1 back, and yelled out, “I want it that way!” And then there was the winter parka2 on a blistering3 July day. “You’ll roast,” I told him as I held up a nice light mesh4 tank top5, at which he wrin－kled his nose. He went out with that winter coat on. I didn’t know if he was toasted, but he seemed to be enjoying it.
This morning I had laid out on the edge of his bed a pair of brown shorts, a red T-shirt, and two white socks. After he got up, I watched from behind the door how this 9-year-old pulled himself together. He picked up the shorts, considered them, and then uncere－moniously6 dropped them on the floor, electing instead to pull from the hamper7 a pair of soiled, wrinkled plaid8 shorts that had been bound for the washer.
As for the red T-shirt, he didn’t give it a moment’s thought, but rather shoved it under his pillow and took a blue and white-striped button-down shirt from a hanger and carefully unbuttoned it, turned up the collar, and tucked one shirttail9 in, leaving the other hanging out... I couldn’t bear to watch anymore and hurried downstairs.
By the time Anton came out of his room and entered the kitchen, I had had time to prepare my response. But I couldn’t help gasping. Going through my head was, “Hmm. Stripes and plaid. And that shirttail. One red sock, one white. My gosh...” But I checked myself, and happily said, “Good morning, son. You look, er, not bad today.”
As we walked hand in hand through town to his summer day camp, neighbors greeted us amiably10, wondering, perhaps, who had dressed that unfortunate child. I felt like dragging Anton home and forcing my choice of clothes on him.
But I have, over time, learned how to keep peace with Anton and respect his own way of doing things. I believe he does know better. Yet he continues to take the sartorial11 road not traveled.
Although his taste makes people some－times wince12. I realize that these are, at root, the workings of an independent mind, and who knows to what interesting ends his free-willism will lead him? Before I know the answer, I choose to walk with him, my head held high. Let others guess all they want!
九岁的艾顿闪亮登场，全副武装迎接新的一天：一只脚穿白袜子，一只脚穿红袜子；鞋带没系；衬衫领子竖立着，明晃晃的商标展露无余。老天，邻居看了会怎么想？
我曾经试图改善他的外观：把选好的衣服放在他床头。但走出房间时，艾顿穿的还是他自己选的衣服。这倒没什么，只是他的品味令人不敢恭维。比如，有一天他的衬衣纽扣扣错了，我刚要伸手帮他重扣，他赶紧缩身躲过，大声说：“我特意这样扣的！”还有一次，7月的天气，他非要穿一件皮外套。“你会被烤焦的，”我一边告诫他，一边拿出件透气的短袖衫。艾顿不屑一顾，穿着皮外套出门了。他觉不觉得热，我不知道，但一整天他心情都好极了。
今天早晨，我在艾顿床头放了一条棕色的短裤，一件红Ｔ恤衫，一双白袜子。儿子起床后，我从门外静观这个九岁男孩的一举一动。他先抓起短裤，略加考虑后将其扔在地上，然后从脏衣篓里掏出一条脏兮兮、皱皱巴巴的带格子图案的短裤。
红Ｔ恤被他不假思索地塞到了枕头底下。小家伙从壁橱里挑出一件蓝白相间的条纹衬衫，认真地把纽扣系错，翻起领子，把衬衫一角别进短裤，另一角却故意留在外面……我不忍再看下去了，匆匆溜下楼。
等“穿戴整齐”的艾顿走进厨房时，我已经做好了充分的心理准备，但还是倒吸一口冷气，暗暗叫苦：条纹配格子，衬衫里出外进，袜子一红一白，上帝呀！但我没有干涉他，而是开心地说：“早上好，儿子。你今天看起来……嗯……看起来不赖。”
当我和艾顿手挽手走向夏令营地时，邻居跟我们热情地打招呼，他们心里一定在想：是谁帮那可怜的孩子穿的衣服？我委屈极了，真想拖艾顿回家，强迫他换上我配好的那套衣服。
但多年来，我学会了与儿子和平共处的秘诀——尊重他的决定。我相信他是有品味的，但不喜欢墨守成规。虽然他的冒险举动有时令人无法接受，但我知道它们背后藏着一个独立思考的头脑。说不定这种不驯的精神，会把儿子带进一座奇妙的殿堂。在知道答案之前，我选择昂首挺胸跟儿子并肩而行，让别人猜去吧！
盛森 摘译自Moved Stories