Watching Boba Fett with my son
We don’t watch much telly. And I probably wouldn’t choose to watch The Book of Boba Fett left to myself, but somehow it’s become a thing. We watched The Mandalorian, too, so I suppose I could have called this “Watching Star Wars spin-offs with my son” – but at the moment it’s Boba Fett, so let’s go with that.
It’s not the watching, obviously, it’s the sharing. My son’s 18 – I’m constantly surprised at how much of him there is. We’re not in the same space that often any more, so this sprawling on the sofa, this physical closesness, feels very special. It’s a silly programme, but it gives us in-jokes and eye rolls. We share it.
He slices up frozen mango. We share it. We laugh together.
It’s a link that goes through to my teenage years, when the first Star Wars movies came out. I remember seeing A New Hope and knowing this was something new and special. Knowing that Han Solo was cooler and sexier, but keeping a soft spot for Luke Skywalker, with his innocence and his idealism. And it’s a link to my son’s childhood, too. He made the classic transition from Thomas the Tank Engine to Star Wars to Lord of the Rings. For a while it felt like we were single-handedly keeping the Danish economy afloat with our Lego Star Wars purchases. He still has the sets, can’t quite bring himself to shed them. And his birthday is just before Christmas, so birthday treats were trips to see the new release. We know which is the best Star Wars film – and we agree on which is the worst.
There were tears, too. The death of Darth Vader – it was the music that got him – that minor key. My tears, too – when Shmi sends Anakin away to become a Jedi – I cried. to lose a son, even in his best interest. It always tore at me.
So, we watch Boba Fett, we snack, we laugh. We know this world. We won’t get to do this for much longer, so while I can, I enjoy it.
These are the moments which live on in our hearts ❤️
Profoundly touching. I am so moved, Sarah.
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