Siths in Toyland

Superson cried when he didn't have time to take the recycle down to the curb today. He was reassured that we'd return home shortly and he'd have a chance. There was just a quick stop at the store between him and it.

A few nights ago my wife and I were discussing Sith when our youngest passed us making respirator noises. Since he's never seen any of those movies, it's impressive. Most impressive. But it was only a shadow of his obsession.

Today Superson, while we were at the store, asked to see the Hot Wheels* section so that he might consider which one he'll get this week, which seemed reasonable. We make the visit with no incident, even passing some Legos without crying**, until we hit the "Star Wars" aisle.

"May I see a lightsabre," inquires Superson with prim elocution, and how can one say 'no' to that? I hand one to him for inspection. The youngest leans and grunts, indicating that it would be only fair if he is permitted the same. I hand it over to him.

The youngest makes lightsabre noises (you know the ones). Naturally they both start leaning out of the buggy and trying to cut apart everything in sight. It was really fun. If nothing else, it's those kinds of moments where I actually want to thank Lucas for releasing new flicks. They may suck, but the toys really bring back childhood.

We went all over the store, causing havoc, cutting into displays, and threatening teenagers*** with imminent death. It was, truly magnificent. We kept it up for the better part of an hour. Then I cruised over to the pharmacy, where sick people got euthenized free of charge, and then to the checkout.

I had no intention of paying for those things. At $7 a piece they were outside of my budget. I'm doing good to get them that dollar car every week. Superson was easily disarmed with a wrenching movement, but I foolishly alerted the youngest to my intentions. He held back the handle and pointed the blade at me, a look of grim determination^ on his face.

I look squarely at him, "so be it... Jedi."

Vicious tickling commences, the closest thing a dad has to force lightning (I can even tickle without touching). Finally, he drops the weapon, which is snatched up and handed to the cashier for disposal.

We leave, my youngest screaming. Now I know why Luke was such a whiner.

*My parents introduced the "Johnny Lightning" line of cars, and I must say that I'm hooked. Dang things are 3 times as expensive as Hot Wheels, but actually feature cars with fins and stuff. The classics. This month's vehicle of of choice is either the '82 corvette or the '69 mustang, I can't decide.

**Although there is a moment of curiosity over the Mr. Fantastic figure (also known as a repainted Stretch Armstrong).

***Don't these kids have anything better to do than hang out at Wal-mart on a friggin' Monday morning? Go to class? Work? Sleep in?

^He even had the green "Yoda" special. I love my kids!