"Look, Mom! I'm smoking!"

Yeah. Not exactly what you want to hear from your 7-year old.

On one of the coldest days of the year, my adventurous daughter Lucci wanted to go play in the snow. Not wanting to squash her spirit, I reluctantly agreed to bundle up. (What is it about kids and sub-zero temperatures?! Oy.)

4 hours later (okay, it just felt like that), we were arctic-ready. I opened the door first, a gust of air hit both of our faces. "Are you sure, Lucci?" It was too late. She was out the door. Our dog, Jack, turned on his heels as if to say "Are you kidding me?!" It was clear: Lucci and I were on our own.

These moments, even in the middle of winter, are treasures for a mom. It's a chance to talk about everything and nothing. "Where do the squirrels go, Mom?" "Can we ice skate on the pool?" "This snow tastes good!" These are the kinds of heavy topics we cover. I love it. It's my chance to feel smart (she is only 7! The clock is ticking...my days are numbered as the "Wise One!")

I should say, it's USUALLY my chance to feel smart and have ALL the answers. "The squirrels hibernate, Dear." "We can't ice skate on the pool. Just because." "Snow is good. Just don't eat the yellow kind." Really high-brow stuff. Until this day. THIS day, I was completely NOT ready for what was headed my way.

"Look, Mom! I'm smoking!"

The image of my angel with two fingers holding an imaginary cigarette, drawing it up to her mouth and blowing "smoke" from her mouth, was enough to bring this gal to her knees. "WHY on EARTH would you DO that?" I glared. In retrospect, I didn't need to say anything. Apparently the look on my face (even limited through scarf and hat) was enough to make Lucci stop in her tracks. "I don't know. It just looks like smoke when I breathe."

Our walk ended early. I don't know if it was the numbness in my fingertips, or the leftover pang from what felt like a punch in the stomach. I don't mean to be melodramatic, but my husband is clear on this issue. Always has been. He's actually said, if I ever wanted a divorce (by the way, we've been together 23 years, happily married 19 of them!) all I would have to do, would be to light a cigarette and smoke it. As a kid, he describes living in a "bubble" of secondhand smoke. His mother, father and sister chain smoked. It had left it's mark. As an adult, he couldn't have the person he loved most, smoking. He's more forgiving of others, just not his wife.

Fortunately, for me, it's not a habit I adopted. And I've adopted a few. My parents both smoked when they were younger (1950's) and my mom was known to "sneak" a few until doctors thought they found a spot on her lung. Luckily, it was just enough to scare her straight. So far, that was it.

As for my in-laws, the story doesn't end as well. Both are gone now, cigarettes helped lead to my mother-in-law's death of cancer at the young age 52. My father-in-law lived until age 70. He stopped smoking one day. The day after doctors told him it WOULD kill him.

My walk with Lucci turned out to be a great opportunity. It didn't feel like it, but it was. Once inside our warm house, hot chocolate in hand, cooler heads prevailed. I explained my reaction to the imaginary cigarette. I didn't blame her for thinking it was fun to pretend to make smoke in the air. I just explained how cigarettes are really NOT funny. They can become the "boss of you" making you like them even though they're bad for you. (She hates it when her sister bosses her around!) Then it got more serious, just for a minute. "Cigarettes are so bad for you, they can kill you...that smoke, is poison inside you. It turns your lungs black, not the pretty pink they are right now (she loves pink!).

I'm pretty sure she heard me. She didn't ask any questions, but sipped thoughtfully on her "coffee." It wasn't until a few days later that I knew she really was paying attention.

After talking her sister into the sub-zero play date, I noticed her waving her arms explaining something. Turns out, she told her, "Smoking can kill you!"