Finley was grumpy and emotional. Nothing was going her way. I wouldn't let her watch TV. There were no jeans in her drawer. And she wanted Ovaltine. Now. When I finally mixed up the Ovaltine, she was in the playroom sulking. Joe, in the right place at the right time, asked for The Light Blue Cup. When Finley came out, she asked for The Light Blue Cup. "Sorry, Finley. Joe already asked for it," I said. She stormed over to the couch to sulk some more. "If you don't want any Ovaltine, I guess I'll drink it." I said. She didn't move. I drank the Ovaltine. She sulked.
I used to wonder why, when the Israelites were wandering through the wilderness and God provided manna for them every day, why he didn't just ignore the ingrates when they complained. Then I saw my daughter sulking on the couch, and this unwarranted compassion arose in my heart, and I washed The Light Blue Cup and fixed some more Ovaltine. That's why God sent quail.
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