“How does Darth Vader die?”

“Are Anakin and Obi-Wan brothers?”

These are the questions Calfgrit7 asks me about Star Wars. I’ve been planning to sit down with CG7 to watch the Star Wars movies when he’s old enough — I was 10 when I saw A New Hope — but his interest in Star Wars is growing faster than his age.

I have the original VHS versions of the first three movies (Eps. IV, V, VI). They were given to me as a Christmas gift back in the 90s, before there was even any talk about the special editions or prequels.

I was hoping for him to experience the magic and surprises of Star Wars with me, but with all the Star Wars paraphernalia in the world, he’s learning so much about it without ever even seeing the movie package. He has asked many questions about the different characters, and some things I’ve had to refuse to tell him — like Darth Vader is Luke’s father, Anakin Skywalker becomes Darth Vader, etc. I haven’t told him why I don’t want to tell him.

Then the other day he brought home a book he checked out from the library at school: The Secrets of Darth Vader. “Ha, Dad, I’m going to know how Darth Vader dies,” he said. Damn.

Well, I talked to Cowgrit about this — she’s known I want to watch the movies with CG7 — and we’re going to make time this weekend. She’ll take Calfgrit4 off somewhere for a couple of hours, and CG7 and I will sit and watch at least A New Hope. I’d like to watch it on Saturday, and then watch The Empire Strikes Back on Sunday, and then squeeze in Return of the Jedi Monday evening, but we don’t know if we can work in six hours like that.

If I’m going to do this, I have to do it now, or he’ll learn too much before seeing the movies. The hard part is doing it behind CG4’s back, and keeping it all a secret from him. CG7 will want to talk about having seen the movies, and CG4 will be upset if he knows he’s missed something like that (but 4 years old is too young for a PG movie).

Now if I can just “misplace” his The Secrets of Darth Vader book for a few days.

Bullgrit

The boys and I stopped by the local mall yesterday. We walked into the mall at the food court, and as we made our way through to the central hub, I noticed they already had some Christmas decorations up. Geez, I thought, it’s barely into November.

It seems like it only recently started, in the past few years, with stores and malls setting up things for Christmas before Thanksgiving. I noticed Target had a Christmas section (two aisles) even before Halloween. This is wrong. This should not be happening. Christmas should not start until after Thanksgiving.

Anyway, as we walked into the central hub of the mall, we walked smack into the Santa Claus area. Santa was there, next to the big tree. The thought had not even crossed my mind that Santa might already be in the mall. Had I thought we might run into the big guy, I would have mentioned it to my boys. I might even have come into the mall at the store we needed rather than walk through the main area.

Calgrit7 said, “I don’t think he’s the real Santa.” Calfgrit4 didn’t pay the red suit any mind at all. There was not the usual long line of kids and parents waiting to meet him. There was not the feeling of the holiday in the air. (The temperature outside was in the 70s!)

For my boys, seeing Santa like this felt so fake and unreal. It felt more like seeing someone in a late Halloween costume than seeing the real jolly old elf.

For me, it felt like an ambush. Bumping into Saint Nick three weeks before you’d normally expect him just isn’t helpful for parents. We want seeing Santa to be a special, magical moment. We want to warn the boys that we’ll see him — from afar at first, and then we’ll get closer if they want.

Now, though I feel like the moment was mildly ruined. This kind of thing does not endear me to the mall, at all. It’s actually annoying. It makes me not want to go back to the mall until after Thanksgiving — when Christmas is really supposed to start. I definitely won’t take the boys back until December.

Bullgrit

Me and the boys were at an outdoor ice cream shop last night for a treat. They were both over at a table with a couple of new books, and I was standing in line to order. Calfgrit4 comes up to me and says, “Daddy, do you have any money?”

“Um, yeah,” I said. Was he thinking of how I was going to pay for the ice cream?

“Can I have it?” he asked.

“Why?”

“I want to make a wish,” he said.

There was a small fountain in front of the shop, with lots of coins in it. “Oh, OK,” I said. I dug into my pocket and pulled out some change. I had three pennies, and I gave CG4 one of them. He ran off to make his wish.

A minute later, he came back to me. “Calfgrit7 wants to make a wish, too,” he said. I gave him a penny to take to CG7.

When I got our ice cream orders, I took them over to their table. Before I sat down, CG4 asked for “more money” to make another wish. I only had one more penny, and I knew that if CG4 made another wish, CG7 would want to make another wish, too.

“No,” I said, “just one wish per person tonight.”

While they were busy eating their ice cream, I pulled out my last penny. I stepped up to the fountain and tossed it in. I wish that their wishes come true. Maybe that’s cheating the system, but it’s the only way I could think right then to give them both a wish with one penny.

Bullgrit

Calfgrit7 and I went, with his scout pack, to a carnivore preserve. The site has a couple or three dozen wild cats — ocelots, servals, tigers, and such. (Seven tigers!)

Although all the animals were interesting in their own ways, the tigers were the most amazing to see. To start with, tigers are much bigger in person than they seem on TV. The smallest tiger on the preserve is over almost 500 pounds. The others are 700-800 pounds, and when standing upright (to get food offered up high), they’re about 8 feet tall.

At one point, while looking at the white tiger (shown here), it started stalking the kids lined up in front, at the rope cordon. It’s a bit disturbing to see a tiger’s eyes up close like that, and know that it’s judging which cub scout to eat first.

When the stalking started, the tour guide/animal keeper said it was time for us all to turn our backs on the animal and walk away. So we did so. As we exited the area, Calfgrit7 joked about it.

“Shake our booty,” he said, and wiggled his butt in the direction of the tiger.

“Please, son,” I said, “let’s not taunt the eight hundred pound tiger.”

Bullgrit