My 3-year-old has been home sick with a fever this week. While that is not good for him or domestic harmony, the upside is that he has been watching several Star Wars films, which warms my heart like being inside a Taun Taun. They are, perhaps, a bit mature for him and he has incessant questions (“Why is Darth Vader Luke’s dad?”, “Well son, there was this boy, Anakin, and this girl, Padme, who loved each other very much…”)
When we started potty training, we opted for a method that we assume parents have been using for millennia; bribery. As a teenager, I became obsessed with Star Wars. I saw the first movie when I was a sophomore and I was hooked in a seriously uncool way. It’s as if I was always an 8-year old boy on the inside. I read all the fanfiction, bought Star Wars everything and cataloged my purchases in a three-ring binder, had license plates that read “SW4EVER” (not “senior women”), waited in long lines for midnight showings of the rereleases, and purchased a couple boxes worth of action figures. Most from Episode 1: The Phantom Plot Menace. I kept them in their original packaging all these years and we gave started using them as rewards for pooping in the potty. Because, you know, they’re from Episode 1 and a quick eBay check confirmed that they had gained absolutely no value. Most had lost value. Except maybe that Han Solo with the choke-hazard blaster. Probably should have checked that one. Mama was so proud yesterday as he lined up all his action figures while watching the movies, acting them out, and asking incessant questions. My inner 16-year-old girl (aka. 8-year-old boy) was as happy as a Jawa with a droid. Or as happy as a Wookie in a tree. I’m open to suggestion here.
As if I have time for this... 