Me: I can’t believe your mom is 47, because that means I’m almost 47.
Fred: Do you like Star Wars or The Clone Wars better?
Me: …because I was just 18 yesterday with no sun spots the size of satellite discs or butt dimples, what’s this skin drape-age happening under here?…
Fred: …because Ahsoka’s boring. She’s a girl.
Me: …and then you wonder about the path not taken, two roads diverging in the yellow wood, as it were. Could I have been a podiatrist? I’ll never know…
Fred: …all the good guys are boring in Star Wars except Anakin ‘cuz he ends up on the Dark Side.
Fred pulls his black beanie over his face.
Fred: CHEE-HOOO CHEE-HOO (Darth Vader breathing noises).
Me: …should I have taken that personal assistant job to Woody Harrelson when I had the chance? …because he might’ve got me acting work… or he might’ve just got me addicted to hemp and Oscillococcinum…
Fred: (pulling up his beanie) Do Wookies poop?
Me: …of course your mom is three months older than me and she’s got that unfortunate pale skin that can’t handle the sun. I’ll always be just a little bit younger…
Fred: …because they have so much fur on their butts that the poop’d get stuck…
Me: …in 1983 I thought of taking up synchronized swimming…
Fred: ARRGGGGGGG! (Wookie Howl)
Me: …it’s too late for that now… too much leg kicking and my knees are shot… although extra fat does make you buoyant…
Fred: I’m going to destroy you!
Me: Ow! Why did you hit me with that candelabra?
Fred: It’s my lightsaber! Pshew, pshew! Pshew, pshew, pshew!
Me: Aren’t you a little short for a storm trooper?
Fred: I’m Darth Maul. I have horns on my head.
Me: Oh, you’re so cute! I’ll never have a son… because I’m too old!
Fred: Ack. Ack. Stop kissing my cheeks!
Me: Oh I want to eat those cheeks, give me those cheeks! I need them for Sunday brunch!
Fred: Mommyyyyyy! There’s a scary old lady… mommmyyyyy!
Me: Oh sure, right! Go ahead and run to your mommy! Because it’s all about you, isn’t it, mama’s boy? What about me? Don’t my needs count? What about meeeeee????