Wookie Therapy

I slump next to Fred, who is five, on a couch at his mom’s birthday party. He has red curly hair and dimples. I have two whiskers emerging from my neck wattle and thrombosis.

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????


About The Woman Formerly Known As Beautiful

Aging Vaintress, Mom Butler, Wife Dominatrix, Author of the Roman a clef "Into The Child: 40 weeks in the gestational wilderness"


  1. Rochelle says:

    This is wonderful! You are aiming too low with Aiming Low. :-)

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  2. Maggie S. says:

    I have that conversation pretty often with my son.

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