Monthly Archives: April 2015

Star What?

Thanks to the incredible heavy-handedness of Lego’s marketing department, my younger son claims to be obsessed with Star Wars. I don’t really believe this is possible, given that he’s four and has never actually seen the movies. But, still, he insists “I weawy wuv Staw Waws.”

I doubt him because as an ubercool preteen, I actually was obsessed with Star Wars. And to be fair, I hadn’t seen the movies at first either. I caught this virus from a library book: a novelization for Return of the Jedi. And it was surprisingly overwritten, as I recall. I remember my mom reading it aloud in a perpetual tone of surprise. I mean, it’s Return of the Jedi. The author of this novelization had every right to just phone it in. But he didn’t. He wrote the heck out of it.

And I became obsessed with it. I hadn’t seen the movies, because well, it was all girls at our house and it just never came up. But then in sixth grade, it came up big time. And these were the days when renting a video was kind of a big deal, at least at our house. I had to wait for weeks. I remember reading the weekly booklet of TV listings searching for the Star Wars movies, hoping against hope that this, THIS, would finally be the week when there would be a Lucasfilm triple feature. That day did not come, alas.

So now that the kid has taken an interest, I’m uncertain. Do I just unleash it on him? He’s four, after all. Isn’t most of it going to whoosh over his head like the star when the Million Falcon, as he calls it, makes the jump to light speed?

I tried to compromise by starting small: we’ve checked out some Star Wars easy readers from the library, including some Lego Star Wars, so I know we are smack in the middle of some kind of boy demographic here. Well played DK, well played.

But really? Let him watch Star Wars? He can barely sit still through the books. And to be honest, I can’t even follow the plots for all that Episode 1-3 business.

I’m not completely sure what my hesitation is. Maybe I don’t like feeling like I’ve been marketed into something? Maybe I’m not sure we have enough room in the Fun Apartment for a Lego Star Wars obsession? The lego bin is already overflowing. . . .

Or maybe I want to wait til he can actually appreciate the story. I have long suspected that kids movies aren’t really for kids. Take this huge steaming pile of . . . . merchandising, for example. I know most grownups appreciate kids movies with adult humor too, but I am sort of turned off by it, because it means there’s a bunch of jokes the kids can’t understand but can repeat. And they kind of make the movie boring for kids. Trust me, they were bored somewhat stiff while I snickered through this.

Also, I am not sure that any kid who insists it is “3DPO! Not C3PO!” is really ready. Then again, I did actively argue back, so maybe I am not ready either.

So I guess the answer is maybe, coming soon to a galaxy near us.

Until then: Help me Obi Wan Kenobody, you’re my only hope.

You have failed me for the last time, Admiral.

You have failed me for the last time, Admiral.


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Filed under The outside world

Spring Breaking.

We did not go anywhere for spring break. And by anywhere, I mean we didn’t go past 6th Avenue. It was a true staycation.

We stayed. We played. We watched some videos. We had a couple playdates. We went to Trader Joe’s. And we did not get bored.

There are several actually worthwhile New York things to do within shouting distance of the fun apartment. And we did none of them. The weather did not know it was spring break, so there was not a lot of outside time. There was hanging in. The man of my dreams worked late. Twice.

And I did not succumb to alcoholism.

I worried a bit before spring break that it would be messy and grim — a true test of survival. But instead it was a nice, low-key week of doing little boy things.

See, being on spring break with girls looks like this:

Not my kitchen. Not my kids.

Not my kitchen. Not my kids.

Being on spring break with boys looks like this:

WWE Practice

WWE Cage Match

Or sometimes this:

They grow up so fast that he's ready to shave.

They grow up so fast that he’s ready to shave.

On Sunday night, as I tried to remember whose lunchbag is whose and which pants belong to which boy, I thought to myself, “Wow! That was easier than I thought! Hey, we did it! Yay! Now, what street is the school on again?”

But then, as I typically do after surviving something stressful, I had a mini-breakdown over nothing after the main event. On Friday evening, I found myself sobbing into a sinkful of dishes, weighed down with angst about never finding a suitable (i.e. paying) job.

But luckily that passed quickly and we sat down to a spur-of-the-moment living room picnic dinner, buoyed by wine and surprise cupcakes provided by the Mister.

After all, this is the Fun Apartment. We can put legs on anything and make it walk.

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Filed under Living Small, Not cool