In A Galaxy Far, Far Away...

I never pictured my five year old son getting really, really into Star Wars.
It just never occurred to me.
I mean, I know his Dad is under the impression that he is, in fact,
Luke Skywalker
and is prepared to save the world at a moments notice.
But my son?
My offspring?
Flesh of my flesh?
Never occurred to me.

It started with a little Lego Star Wars action with the Daddy-O.
This moved into Lego Star Wars obsession, followed by time restrictions,
followed by surpassing his Dad in skill and game progress.
Followed by more time restriction.
Followed by sneakiness.

Yesterday it was like it occurred to him out of the clear blue sky that
Lego Star Wars
must be based on the actual movie Star Wars.
This knowledge has changed his life.
I finished putting the house in order and preparing the children for bed
as my son carried around the DVD's and explained to me
just who each character was
and what weapons they carried in the game.
And he wants a light saber. A real life light saber.

I woke up in the wee hours of the morning to
DUN-DUN-DUH-DUN-DUH-DUN-DUN!
(that's me singing the Star Wars theme. You're welcome.)
blaring throughout the house.
He'd put the movie on.
A few minutes later he came running in screaming with glee
because there was the princess!
And R2-D2!!!

It's been great.

I didn't even see a Star Wars movie until I was 16.
And that was only because my best friend and I eeked out a deal where
if I watched Star Wars Episodes IV, V, and VI
he would sit through six hours of 'NSYNC footage.
It was worth it.
We proceeded to watch Episode I eleven times in the theater.
Just sayin'.

Point is:
I don't think Star Wars love is embedded in my genetic code.
I mean, I know I gave my son 23 chromosomes, and the
Star Wars chromosome
was not one of them.

I think he got it from his Dad.