My daughter has a Star Wars obsession.I was up late the night before “Favorite Book Character Day” at school, cutting up an old sheet to turn it into a Rey costume for my 5-year-old to wear the next morning.
When she was given a new daily schedule and needed a new alarm clock to ensure she kept it, I picked up one of the BB-8 variety.
In the back of my closet, awaiting an occasion to give it to her – maybe her birthday, maybe sooner – I’ve hidden a new Star Wars tank top I saw in the store and knew she’d love.
But here’s the thing: I have never seen Star Wars. (Please don’t throw things at me.) I mean, I think I saw one or two of the originals with an ex-boyfriend a million years ago, and I’m fairly certain I went with him to see Episode I in the theater. But I couldn’t tell you the difference between the First Order and the Resistance. It’s just never been my thing.
Pumpkin, my 5-year-old, developed her Star Wars fascination all on her own. And since she expressed an interest, my husband has shown her some of the movies. She loves it. She sleeps with her Storm Trooper and Jyn dolls at night and practices her budding reading skills using books about a galaxy far, far away.
When she was born, on my birthday, the oldest daughter of an oldest daughter, I thought my girl would be just like me. And in many ways, she is. Sometimes terrifyingly so. And being fiercely independent, well, that’s just like me, too. Even when it means her interests vary from mine.
I probably won’t develop an interest in Star Wars anytime soon – I haven’t in all my 37 years. But that doesn’t mean I won’t attempt to make her some BB-8 pancakes this morning or read her a bedtime story about Ewoks tonight.
May the Fourth be with you.