C3PO and the Hair Clippie

Something I have always dreaded has happened. It is something every mother fears will one day manifest in her son, and now it has taken hold of mine. No, he has not come out of the closet. I could handle that. This is so bad it is almost unspeakable. He has become... a Star Wars fan.

It is partly my own fault. For a while, Steve and I suspected that Ian would enjoy this intergalactic saga because he has been so into Bionicles. For months we suggested having a movie night at home where he could watch Episode 1 in the lighted security of our living room, where snuggle buddies and pj's are allowed. But Ian thought the movie would be too scary. He has seen the Halloween costumes inspired by the evil characters, and they terrified him. One gloomy Sunday afternoon over winter break, we caught him in the right mood, and he sat through The Phantom Menace in its entirety. When it was over, he said it was the coolest movie he'd ever seen.

Since then, of course, he has become nothing short of a die-hard fan. Last weekend my dad and I took him to Barnes & Noble to get a book on maps. Dad is a geography buff, and Ian loves to read my Mapsco city directory in the car. Immediately upon entering, Ian was captivated by the Star Wars section. He picked up a copy of The New Essential Guide to Droids. He has memorized it.

[sigh]

Today my son was tired of being himself and decided that becoming C3PO would make life more to his liking. He borrowed my large hair clips and placed them around his forearms (yes, his arms are that skinny) and began shuffling around the house. He almost has the voice down too.

Then he asked a strange question. "Mom, what does it mean to suffer?"

"Well," I said, "animals suffer when they are out in the cold unprotected or when they are sick. People suffer when they don't have food or shelter, and sometimes when they are sick."

"Oh. But droids don't suffer because they are machines," he stated matter-of-factly.

"Right," I affirmed.

And I was wondering how we got on this topic. Perhaps he wondered if these human-like robots had feelings like his. With Ian, you never know where a conversation will lead.

It wasn't until bath time that Steve told me he and Ian had been discussing the prognosis of his fish, Red. Ian thinks Red is going to die, and he is probably correct. Red has dropsy, which amounts to a wicked case of edema that causes the fish to swim upside down. Red has been swimming belly-up since the middle of November. The question at this point is whether we have a mercy-flushing or we let nature take its course. Ian must have been wondering to himself if Red is suffering.

You know, Ian may not understand or express his emotions in a way that makes sense to me or to the rest of the world, but inside that wonderful brain of his is a method to getting there. It just takes time to learn what goes where. Now if I could get him to spend as much time working on social skills as he does learning the anatomy of the Ubrikkian Steamworks DD-13 Cybernetic Surgical Droid, we'd be off and running.

Oh, well. At least he's not a "Trekkie". I hear they have conventions where people wear pointy ears and walk around speaking Klingon. Talk about strange.