Why does life hurt sometimes?
I'll draw your attention to Hubby's blog post today. Abi asked him why God made bees. Ever since her brother was stung this summer, reacted, and ended up in the hospital, she has had a pronounced fear of bees.
I found it fascinating that in her five-year-old brain, bees were the Ultimate Bad Thing. It's like Harry Potter, when faced with the boggart. It becomes only a dementor, much to his teacher's surprise. Lupin figured it would become Lord Voldemort.
When Abi needed to ask Daddy about the problem of evil in the world, she asked about bees. Not "Why was I abandoned, starving, as an eight-month-old baby?" Or "Why did I have to lose my eyesight, be flung halfway around the world, learn a whole different language, and grow up in a totally different family than the one where I was born?"
I don't have anything particularly profound to comment on this. I just found it interesting.