the scent of evil

Lizzy has been asking interesting questions lately. Some insightful, some just plain strange.
For instance, when Matt dared to go back to the barber that butchered him last time, Lizzy said, "I wonder if Daddy's going to like his haircut." "Great question," I responded. Matt seemed genial and pleased enough in the shop. After we walked out, I asked if he was indeed happy with it. "No," he said cheerfully. That's IT. I'm taking him to my hair guru, Cheryl, at Bubbles for his official wedding haircut. As Matt says, "The less hair you have, the better the haircut has to be." So, we'd better make sure it's VERY good, I guess. Hee!

Last night, Lizzy watched Aladdin while I went and worked out. After it was
over, she came bouncing into the kitchen, where I was trying to have some sort of adult conversation with Matt -- against all odds, we do try, sometimes. Something wedding-related, no doubt. Ah, yes -- must've been in regards to the second round of invitations (for the West Coast reception). Or the menu for it. Or something.

Lizzy says, "What does Jafar smell like?" I take great delight in responding to these crazy questions with the utmost seriousness. "Hm," I said thoughtfully. "What do YOU think he smells like?" This results in either a fascinating look into my 3-year-old's mind, or else she dissolves into tears and petulant sobs of, "No! I asked YOU!" This time, she said, "I don't know. What do you think?" I said, "Well, maybe -- I bet he smells kind of musty and moldy. Like a basement." She said, "Yeah. Like a moldy basement!" That seemed to work for her.

"Aladdin doesn't smell bad, though, right?" she said. "No," I said. "He's a good guy." Where this will lead, I shudder to think. Apparently, the evil that lives in a man's heart will emerge through body odors. Hey -- it makes sense, kinda. It sure would make things easier, wouldn't it? Kinda like those anti-smoking posters that say, "Would you smoke if it did to your face what it does to your lungs?" The art on those isn't very pretty.
I'll betcha if shoving past someone on the metro, or thinking a mean thought, or saying something mean behind someone's back made me literally stinky, I'd do it less. I hate, hate to be stinky. If sin appeared on us in literal form...