In fear of R2D2

I’m determined to get on Maury so I can get a paternity test. My so-called son is terrified of R2D2. I don’t mean unsure, I don’t mean hesitant. I mean full blown terrified.

My father got me a 15″ voice interactive R2D2 astromech robot for Christmas. I’m 44. He told me I could take it to work and keep it in my office. My father like Ralphie’s aunt in A Christmas Story has failed to realize I’ve grown up just a little over the last 4 decades.

I pictured my son and R2 having conversations only they could understand. I pictured my son babbling and R2 whirring and buzzing back. I pictured my son developing an extra ordinary early love of the Star Wars franchise. Instead I got a quivering lip, desperate clawing at my clothes, and terrified stream of tears.

Of course I’m being facetious, I realize that it’s just too early for him not to be terrified of an obnoxiously loud inanimate object. I realize he hasn’t watched the Star Wars movies like a bajillion times. I realize too that Star Wars hasn’t been an integral part of his childhood.

Above all though I realize he’s not me. And that’s OK. Will I be disappointed if he doesn’t like the Star Wars franchise? Sure. Will I miss bonding with him over it? Absolutely. Will it be the end of the world? No. I know there will be other things. There will probably even be things I haven’t imagined yet.

I hope and pray he doesn’t put on a brave smile and pretend to like Star Wars just to humor me. That will make me more sad that him just saying he doesn’t like Star Wars. I remember being a child and constantly having to humor my Dad just so he would spend time with me and just so he would be happy. As an adult I get sad thinking about the fact that Dad never took an interest in my interests. It was always me trying to get his attention.

I want more for my son. I want to discover who my son is instead of forcing him to be someone he’s not. I pray that God will keep reminding me to look outside myself and look outside my narcissism so that I can truly appreciate and value who he is. I still want my own interest. That’s for sure. I just hope that I sacrifice the time to look into his world instead of living separate lives that sometimes intersect. I don’t want to just be a roommate to my son the way my father was with me.


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