As a young girl, I remember when the baby chicks would come and they'd have to stay under the heat lamps. I loved holding them... so much that one time I squeezed one so tight it died, right there in my hands. That was devastating.
In fact my freshman year in college I wrote a paper about it in Mr. G's English class. Got an A. Somehow, it ended up lost and a certain student janitor found it and read it. A short time later we met, & I happened to tell him the story. It was then he realized it was me who had written the paper. A year later I married him.
Holding my own children can give me that same feeling just as the baby chicks did. It just wells up inside. I want to squish and squeeze and smother them with my lovin'.
In the Summers household, that emotion is now referred to as the "chicken feeling". And that means, 'You better watch out 'cause you're in for some serious affection!' You've been warned, I just might love ya to death.
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