Yesterday, when it was time to pick up his older brothers at school, my four year old refused to get in the car. He ran around the house screaming that he hated carpool line, then raced upstairs.
For once, I kept my cool.
I lowered my voice and spoke into an imagined walkie-talkie, “Calling Luke Skywalker. The Millenium Falcon is heading to Planet Something-or-other to pick up the Jedi. Get Chewbacca. We must leave before Darth Vadar gets to them.”
The screaming stopped immediately.
Then, the pitter-patter of little feet on the stairs, in the hall, through the kitchen, to the garage.
“Mom,” big grin, “I’m not an ewok anymore. I’m Luke!”
And the Millenium Falcon was off!