DADWAGON

I don’t begrudge my son for wanting to dress up like a knight and swordfight all day. He’s three, school is out, and frankly, hitting me with a sword is probably the only way he can get my attention as I try to work AND babysit all day.

But combining his Ren Faire proclivities with Star Wars, well that’s a little much. Because every time he says he’s a valiant knight while wearing his furry Yoda slippers and wielding a light saber, the boy gets one step closer to being at the nexus of two cultures I have not chosen for myself and would love to not choose for him. Think I’m overreacting? Contemplate the fact that the jedis and siths just held an amateur flash mob in Times Square earlier this week, adults getting dressed up and pointing fake light sabers at each other. This is no phantom menace. I want my boy to get laid at least sometime in his life.

I am going to try to handle this quietly, the way I do when my daughter inadvertently drops an f-bomb. Don’t want to make a big deal. Tension and anxiety is like a flame to those moths. I have a feeling that every committed Renaissance Faire goer had a parent who spoke out too harshly, who strictly forbad tights and paisley vests, and thereby seared the desire to go to Oregon every September (“Teaching History Through Faire Play”) in their small minds. A fine outcome, forsooth!