My 8 year old nephew was down last weekend, and as it turns out, he’s become hooked on Star Wars lately. It was fun to tell him that I had been a long time Star Wars fan, but he didn’t end up really believing it, I don’t think, mostly because my knowledge of the “first three” (most recent three) movies is so sketchy. It does no good to be able to quote the “last three” verbatim if you don’t know the name of the… whoevers in the Trade Federation.
Even so, I DID know where to go to find some Star Wars toys and so we set off for the Silver Snail. I spent a lot of time in that store as a teenager, inhaling the scent of fantasy/sf geekery (this was when Bakka was across the street, too) and lusting over the really expensive movie paraphenalia.
But this time I was there solely as aunt and mother. I really didn’t want anything in the store for myself, even the beautiful life-sized lightsaber replica. But I did get a huge kick out of watching my nephew go bananas with Choice…
… and Noah, who took to my nephew (and he to him, which is good as two years ago this was not the case) and followed him about adoringly, also did. So he asked if he could get a “guy.” (Figurine is what I would call them but in Carl’s family they are guys.)
So I let him pick and tried to steer him to say, Han Solo. Or a Wookie. But nope, after much thought about it Noah picked out an Arc Trooper, which is a Stormtrooper/clone/nazi/whatever. I can’t say I was entirely thrilled to be suddenly thrust from Thomas to war toys, even if they are Star Wars (err… WARS, what was I thinking???). Thanks to the miracle of being the person to unpack the toy, his trooper didn’t come with a gun.
The morning after though, my fears about the toy were laid to rest as follows:
Noah: “Mummy, where my guy?”
Me: (bleary, it’s 6 am) “uhh… here you go.”
[lots of play passes, and then]
Noah: Mummy, my guy love me!
Me: That’s nice
Noah: Mummy, my guy hug me!
Me: That’s nice too.
Noah: Mummy, my guy take my hand and take me to the park and play with me.
Me: awwwww
I think the “guy” kind of represents the older cousin who introduced him.
(Except of course when the revolution comes, my son will toddle off blissed out on the love bit. Now how to have the “don’t go off with the stormtrooper” conversation…)
P.S. Am too old to save the galaxy, which kind of sucks.
