Scar

There was this kid I used to baby sit when I lived in Atlanta, he was very peculiar. I don’t believe he had many friends, at least he never seemed to play with the other children. He would even root for the bad guys in all the Disney movies I let the kids watch. I even remember once for Halloween he said he wanted to dress up like the Lion King.

I started showing him all these Simba costumes, and he said, “NO! I don’t want to be Simba, I want to be Scar.”

Confused, I said, “Why Scar? He’s the bad guy.”

He replied, “He isn’t bad, he’s just misunderstood. How would you like it if your brother was King of everything the light touched and you had nothing but a scar on your eye? And Mufasa doesn’t even care, some brother he is, he could give Scar some kind of position, make him feel useful, but he doesn’t, he just cares about himself and his immediate family, what a jerk! In school they say you can be anything you want to be, you can even be president, but when Scar tries to make his life better and be king, he gets vilified for it (he had an unusually big vocabulary for a boy his age), and it’s not fair”!

Completely taken off guard, but not to be outdone (especially by an eight year old), I responded, “But he killed his brother, that definitely makes him a bad guy.”

He shrugged his shoulders and said, “Sometimes you got to crack a few eggs to make an omelet.”
Okay, maybe he never said that last part, and maybe he didn’t say most of that. I get really carried away sometimes. Call it creative license. But he really did want to dress up as Scar. What a weird kid.