Evening on the Homestead

"Mommy, can I wook at Daddy's bwaster?"

Leia glanced up from her bowl of bread dough and then down at the chubby, hopeful face of her five-year-old son. A thatch of black hair was falling into his eyes. Smiling, she wiped her floury thumb and forefinger on her tunic, then bent and brushed the hair off his forehead. "You need a haircut, Ben."

"But can I?" he persisted.

Leia raised an eyebrow thoughtfully. "Why don't you ask Daddy when he comes home?"

"When will he be home?

"Dinnertime. You'll have to be patient."

Ben stood on one foot for a moment, trying to peer into the bowl on the countertop, but he wasn't quite tall enough. "What's dat?"

"This? This is bread dough. Do you want to help me knead it?" She squeezed the dough to show him. "Go wash your hands and I'll let you."

Ben rushed over to the sanitizer, pushed the initiate button, and stuck his hands inside. He had used to be afraid of the hot water and the whoosh of steam, but not anymore – he was a big boy now. In his hurry, though, Ben pulled his hands out again before the sanitizer had finished its ten-second drying phase, and ran back to the counter with his fingers still dripping.

Leia glanced at his wet hands suspiciously. "You sure washed up fast."

"I'm 'cited to help," Ben explained, hastily wiping his hands on his shirt front. Leia shook her head, still smiling, then used her foot to drag over one of the small wooden benches that Han had built several years ago.

She motioned to Ben. "Here, come stand on this."

Ben clambered up, steadying himself on the countertop's edge. "So do I squish it?" he asked, finally able to see into the bowl.

"Watch me." Leia pushed her palms into the dough, flattening it, then deftly folded it in half and pushed it down once more. "Now you try."

Ben shoved his hands into the cool, sticky dough and tried to flatten it like his mother had done, but his palms were smaller than hers, and the dough kept springing back after he had pushed it down. It was more fun to sink his fingers into the light-brown mass and squeeze, letting it ooze out from his fists in strange little shapes.

Gently, Leia's hands came down over his sticky ones. "Let me show you." Together, they kneaded the dough for a few minutes more, then Leia molded it into a ball and placed it on the counter to rise.

"Why don't you play outside until Daddy comes home?" she suggested, after overseeing Ben wash his hands a second time.

So Ben grabbed his toy blasters from the corner by the door and skipped outside, startling away two birds who were sitting on a fallen log a few paces away. As they flapped into the deepening purple-blue of the sky, Ben's imagination quickly transformed the birds into TIE-fighters, and he took off after them, making his best X-wing noises. So intent was he on shooting down the enemy fighters that he didn't see the man in front of him until they had nearly collided.

"Whoa, there," said Han, laying his hands on his son's shoulders to steady him. "Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

"I'm shooting TIE-fighters, Daddy," Ben panted, trying to wriggle out of his father's grasp. "Dey're getting away…" Suddenly, he remembered why was out here in the first place. "Daddy, Daddy, can I wook at your bwaster?"

Han swung his son onto his shoulders. "How would you like to hold my blaster, Ben?"

"Weally?" Ben's eyes shone. "Can I?"

"You're almost six years old. In a few years, I'll be teaching you to shoot it, so… why not."

Ben giggled and bounced his heels off his father's chest. "Mommy will be s'prised."

"You think so?" Han grinned. "Maybe she already knows."

"Did you tell her aweady?"

"No. But sometimes Mommy just knows things without being told."

"Mommy's special," said Ben, his face earnest. "I love her."

"Me too," said Han.