He's already a big fan of creator Jon Favreau's The Mandalorian series and absorbed the opening credits of the new show while sweltering under his Baby Yoda Oodie, his Baby Yoda bobble-head nodding sagely on the coffee table and his LEGO Razor Crest spaceship cradled in his lap. He gravitates to reliable branding which is why he was giddy with excitement this week to watch the latest Star Wars spin-off, The Book of Boba Fett, streaming on Disney+. To quell such daily anxieties, our nine-year-old latches on to the familiar, the identifiable. We do this knowing sometimes our kids end up going to sleep worried a planet-killing comet is bearing down on their bedroom or perplexed as to why they're not at least three feet taller. Pretty soon, we're all out of fingers/answers, so, in the interests of preserving our own sanity, are willing to let a few tricky fugitive trickles through to the keeper. With our children flooded with so much information, from so many sources, we're forever plugging one dangerous stream of consciousness only to be presented with several more emerging leaks. Parents of the 21st century share much in common with the Dutch boy of the 19th century, who stuck his finger in a dyke to save his town. "Oh, who was Gandhi, then?" "A skinny Indian politician." "Right, so who was Popeye?" "A brawling cartoon sailor." "Okay." While acknowledging it was quite natural to confuse two characters in possession of such similar ideological traits (and revisiting the old fact vs fiction routine), I steeled myself for the next task - maybe I'd be called upon to articulate the subtle differences between Margaret Thatcher and Xena Warrior Princess? JFK and HRT? - but there was no follow-up question, a rare reprieve, as any adult regularly exposed to pre-adolescent thought processes will attest. "Was he the one with the muscles who ate spinach?" "No, that was Popeye," I said.
As usual, our nine-year-old was a little confused the other day.
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