Brush like the stars

Sydney woke up this morning smelling like something had crawled into her mouth overnight.

"You need to brush your teeth, miss," I told her. "Your breath is nasty."

"I smell like Shrek," she told me, not at all bothered by the thought of having something in common with the animated ogre. "He has bad breath too."

Not sure I'd heard the first part correctly, I repeated, "You have Shrek breath?"

"No," she answered. "I'm just Sydney."