I ate my way into the Book of Exodus. It was dark, and the stories were terrifying. But as so often happens when a reader is three weeks of age, some words are misunderstood.
Moses was telling Pharoah to Let Me People Go. When Phraroah refused, Moses brought down the ten plaques on him. Pharoah was unmoved through the first nine. I wasn’t surprised. Why should this great and powerful king be brought low by plaque–gruesome though it is to look at? How mighty could God be if that’s the best he could muster?
At two months my entire family of 38 emerged from the different books in the shelf. We had stories, but I knew mine was best and I waited to be last. When I was done Homer clapped me on the carapace and said, “Not PLAQUES, clodhopper. PLAGUES.”