After I had just finished cleaning the kitchen and dining room, the kids came running into the house from the backyard, dropping their goods on the table as they continued on into the living room with their destruction. By goods, I mean a few dandelions (that they continually pick in love for me), the tea cups from their tea party, and Caleb's ever favorite lady bugs.
When I asked them to clear off the table for lunch, Abby sighed and said, "It really is a hard-knocked life."
Excuse me? You, the princess of the house whose room is overflowing with toys, stuffed animals, a Barbie house, a comfortable bed and clothes? You, who have a swing set, a sand box and a playhouse in the backyard? You, who has food provided for you, a house to live in, and parents who love you? You have a hard-knocked life?
Apparently, her obession with watching Annie has not taught her the difference between the orphans and her own life. Abby has decided that whenever she is told to do something that she does not want to do, she has every right to proclaim it a hard-knocked life and complain.
Of course, as I am writing this, I am again reminded that I do the exact same thing. I complain about such trivial things when I know there are people hurting much more than me in this world. Not that my pain is not important, but when I complain about the weather, traffic or my lack of more things-I have no justification for this.
Abby and I should be dancing around like the last scene of Annie, when the orphan realizes she is loved by her daddy. In both earthly and heavenly fathers, we are both blessed beyond words.