Before my son could even talk my husband began indoctrinating him into the cult of Star Wars. Well, it’s not really a cult. As my husband says, “Fans of Star Trek are called Trekkies. What do you call fans of Star Wars? People.”
During this time, he started a running joke with my son. Any time we were watching Star Wars, my husband would say to Arty, “Sweet, sweet Darth Vader.” To which my son would reply, “No, not sweet sweet Darth Vader. Scary Darth Vader!”
The game has now evolved into one where we use each other’s names. Like, “Scary Daddy!” To which my son will reply, “No! Not scary Daddy! Sweet sweet Daddy!”
You can probably see where this is going. No correction was made when my husband said to my son, “Scary Mommy!”
That’s fine, kid. I don’t mind being scary. You just watch yourself. I have the death sentence on twelve systems.
On a related note, I did buy my son the book, How to Speak Wookiee recently. It’s never too early to start teaching him new languages. He’ll be bilingual before we know it.