Driving home from a Valentine party the children were in the back seat discussing the weather. They were thrilled at the prospect of having snow the next day. Living in south Mississippi, one rarely sees snow. However, the weather forecasters had predicted four to six inches beginning that evening and continuing on through the following day. “Children,” I said, not wanting them to be disappointed if they were wrong, “you can’t count your chickens before they hatch.” We made it home and I gave the conversation no further thought. And sure enough, it started snowing during the night. By 6 a.m. the ground was covered. It was a beautiful sight!

Andrew, my youngest, was the first one up. He immediately ran to the door. “Mom, there are four to eight chicks out there!” He excitedly proclaimed. “What are you talking about son?” I asked. “My chicks! They hatched!” he said proudly.

The day consisted of playing in the snow, building snowmen, and having snowball fights. As I watched my children play with their friends, it took me back to a simpler time in life. I was taken back to a time when my only concern was if my fingers would fall off from the cold or how long it would take for the snowmen to melt. Time sure does pass quickly. Before I know it my children will all be grown. They won’t be running in and out of the house anymore. I won’t have to remind them to blow their nose or take off their muddy boots. They will have children of their own and my house will be quiet. But, I’m not there yet. My children are still young. They still have time to play. I still have time to enjoy this stage of life. I guess I shouldn’t count my chickens before they hatch!