There's a way.

One morning, I heard someone crying outside while I was hanging out clothes. It was a little boy who lived in the next building. There was nobody except for him. "What's the matter?" When I tried to speak to him, I heard someone else---his mother.
"Hurry up, I said!" she yelled.
"You must know we're running out of time!"
As usual, they were on the way to his nursery school.

She is one of my neighbors, so I know her well; she is a young, bright and promising working mother. Every time she sees me, she speaks to me in a gentle manner. However, on that morning, she sounded completely different.

In a way, I can relate to her because I used to be a working mother. Being a working mother was quite irritating. I had to leave my house with my baby girl by 7 every morning, and I couldn't get home until 8 almost every night. After doing my job at the office, another job was waiting for me at home. Which means, no matter how much work I had, I couldn't do extra overtime because I needed to pick up my children by 8 at the latest.
As a mother of two, I was busy all the time. I always felt like being chased by time scale. I found it very difficult to have some relaxing time just for myself, and it led me to take my frustrations out on my innocent children.

I think a lot of people have said this before, but I hate the sound of a child in distress.

I don't know why her little boy was crying on that day, but he might have been unwilling to go to the nursery school. He might have wanted to be with his mother. It may sound odd, but I feel a bit sorry for him thinking about these things...