When Aladdin came out, Grandpa did the heroic and took all the boy cousins to the theater. Jack came home bubbling with excitement. Thinking I had never heard of, or seen anything like, what he had just seen, he began to recount the entire tale to me. Two minutes into his narration, the following occurred:
Jack: And then there was this bad guy...
Me: Jafar?
Jack: (completely confused) Who?
Me: The bad guy? Jafar?
Jack: (in a tone suggesting a complete lack of caring, and a slight hint of annoyance at being interrupted) Yeeeah... I don’t know. Anyway, there was a bad guy...
Yep. That’s my boy. He had just watched all of Aladdin—paying enough attention to recount the entire tale, and he didn’t recognize the name, Jafar. To be fair, though, I have read entire books, and couldn’t have told you the main character’s name. As Shakespeare once said, “What’s in a name?” (or, whoever that girl on the balcony was, that said that).
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