Sandwich Wars

It takes every fiber of my being to prevent this blog from turning into all Star Wars all the time. The first thing Elijah asks when he wakes up is, “Can I watch Star Wars?” And the last thing he says before he goes to bed is, “Can we play Star Wars?” This pleases Diana to no end.

Actually, I’m happy that the boy has finally found something he wants to play with. Our house is a graveyard of abandoned train sets, plastic workbenches and thousands and thousands of unused toys of every shape and size. Boo hoo. It’s sooo tough being upper middle class. Sheesh.

He’s really into the Star Wars action figures. Or as everyone born in the 1970’s refers to them, “Star Wars Guys.” Speaking of the 1970’s, I keep finding old Star Wars guys in boxes in our basement, so he’s getting quite a little army of chewed up obscure characters that date back to when I was 5.

Then there’s the other thing. Look. I’ve never tried to pretend to be cool on this site. In fact, I’ve tried to explain just how nerdy I am. But I’m afraid when I reveal this latest bit of nerdom I’ll lose all three of my non-family readers. Here goes. I have a collection of unopened, mint-in-box Star Wars figures. When I was in my early twenties, I started to have a little disposable income. So rather than invest it or take actual girls out on actual dates, I bought a bunch of Star Wars crap. I kept them in a box with the vague hope they’d appreciate in value.

But after Diana’s tenth or eleventh threat to throw them out and after researching their complete lack of value on the internet, I decided to open them up one at a time and let Eli have at ‘em. They’re the perfect bribe. Eat your veggies? Get a Storm Trooper. Take a nap without destroying your room? There’s a shiny Boba Fett in it for you.

And I freaking love watching him play with them. He has no real idea of who the characters are or their backstory. Or even what the Star Wars story is. So he just makes stuff up. The other day, Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker, two arch enemies, sat down for bologna sandwiches. I had to bite my tongue for fear of shouting, “Darth Vader and Luke don’t eat bologna sandwiches! They try to murder each other!”

Cousin Finn, who really initiated this whole Star Wars obsession, can only take about five minutes of playing with Eli. After the third of fourth time Eli invites a battalion of Rebel Forces to go to the water park, he throws up his hands in disgust.

Eventually, he’ll learn the rules of who hates who and which guys are good and bad. But for now, I’m happy with the Sandwich Wars.