My son stared up at me, blue eyes defiant, a trace of the Skywalker stubbornness in the set of his soft mouth, the angle of his chin. I wondered whether I should humour this rebellion, or stand firm. He folded his arms across his chest, a frown puckering his forehead.
"Want Blankie," three-year-old Ben repeated.
"Ben..." I said, then relented. I turned to the cupboard where I had stowed the thing earlier, hoping Ben would forget about it come bedtime. But it was not to be.
"This thing is the bane of my life," I muttered, pulling it out of the cupboard.
I had first seen Blankie on the Millenium Falcon. Travelling to some planet or other when pregnant with Ben, am overloaded circuit in the Falcon's temp regulator had blown, and Leia and I had pulled open every locker in the ship searching for extra bedding. Talk about 'piece of junk'--that ship of Han's is full of it. The Falcon gathers up relics of everyone who's ever flown in her.
The blanket was pretty far down in the strata. According to Leia, she and Luke had found it in the burnt-out Lars house, when they were on Tatooine rescuing Han from the Hutt.
Luke met us on our shivering return. I came down the Falcon's entry ramp, wrapped in this shabby red blanket. My husband, on seeing me, gave a most un-Jedi-Master-like yelp of "Blankie!"
I had laughed so hard he had had to hold me up.
I certainly wasn't laughing now. Ben had been tiny when he had taken a liking to the ancient blanket. No pleading, no offers of newer toys could shift him; it was Blankie or nothing.
I tucked it around Ben's knees. It had once been royally fine--brilliant in scarlet and gold, thick and soft. But its pile was thinned now, grimed and worn around the edges by the clutch of small sticky hands.
Ben seized one corner of it and stuffed it into his mouth, along with his thumb.
"Don't suck it, Ben. Force knows where it's been."
The way Luke told it, he'd been wrapped in it wen he was delivered to his uncle and aunt. It could have been literally anywhere before then. Coruscant. Alderaan. Dagobah. I shuddered.
Ben emptied his mouth.
"Blankie older than Daddy?"
"Yes, it is. Blankie's a very old blanket. And very unhygenic."
"Blankie was Daddy's. Blankie mine now."
"That's right."
"Blankie his Daddy's too?"
I had a sudden vision of Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith, tall and menacing, complete with face-mask, lightsaber and fluffy red blanket. It took Jedi control to keep down the shriek of hysterical laughter that threatened to overtake me.
"I should think that was highly unlikely. Now go to sleep, little one."
"Night, Mommy. Love you."
"I love you too, Ben."
I tucked Blankie around him and kissed his mop of tow-coloured hair.
It took some time to explain what the joke was to Luke, back in the family room.
Ben was sleeping when we looked in on him on our own way to bed. His small arms were pushed above his head, his face flushed and mouth relaxed in slumber. Luke knelt to kiss his sleeping son, then gave the blanket a small pat. His mouth quirked upwards.
"You never can tell, love. He might just be right."
I replaced my earlier incongruous image with one of another small blond boy, being tucked beneath a red blanket. I smiled up at Luke as he joined me in the doorway, and leaned my head on his shoulder. My little family. I grinned.
"The Skywalker men--cuddling Blankie through three generations."
Beside me, I felt Luke's amusement.
"Cuddling practice is always a good thing." He put an arm round my waist. "Besides, he's a very special blanket."
"Want Blankie," three-year-old Ben repeated.
"Ben..." I said, then relented. I turned to the cupboard where I had stowed the thing earlier, hoping Ben would forget about it come bedtime. But it was not to be.
"This thing is the bane of my life," I muttered, pulling it out of the cupboard.
I had first seen Blankie on the Millenium Falcon. Travelling to some planet or other when pregnant with Ben, am overloaded circuit in the Falcon's temp regulator had blown, and Leia and I had pulled open every locker in the ship searching for extra bedding. Talk about 'piece of junk'--that ship of Han's is full of it. The Falcon gathers up relics of everyone who's ever flown in her.
The blanket was pretty far down in the strata. According to Leia, she and Luke had found it in the burnt-out Lars house, when they were on Tatooine rescuing Han from the Hutt.
Luke met us on our shivering return. I came down the Falcon's entry ramp, wrapped in this shabby red blanket. My husband, on seeing me, gave a most un-Jedi-Master-like yelp of "Blankie!"
I had laughed so hard he had had to hold me up.
I certainly wasn't laughing now. Ben had been tiny when he had taken a liking to the ancient blanket. No pleading, no offers of newer toys could shift him; it was Blankie or nothing.
I tucked it around Ben's knees. It had once been royally fine--brilliant in scarlet and gold, thick and soft. But its pile was thinned now, grimed and worn around the edges by the clutch of small sticky hands.
Ben seized one corner of it and stuffed it into his mouth, along with his thumb.
"Don't suck it, Ben. Force knows where it's been."
The way Luke told it, he'd been wrapped in it wen he was delivered to his uncle and aunt. It could have been literally anywhere before then. Coruscant. Alderaan. Dagobah. I shuddered.
Ben emptied his mouth.
"Blankie older than Daddy?"
"Yes, it is. Blankie's a very old blanket. And very unhygenic."
"Blankie was Daddy's. Blankie mine now."
"That's right."
"Blankie his Daddy's too?"
I had a sudden vision of Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith, tall and menacing, complete with face-mask, lightsaber and fluffy red blanket. It took Jedi control to keep down the shriek of hysterical laughter that threatened to overtake me.
"I should think that was highly unlikely. Now go to sleep, little one."
"Night, Mommy. Love you."
"I love you too, Ben."
I tucked Blankie around him and kissed his mop of tow-coloured hair.
It took some time to explain what the joke was to Luke, back in the family room.
Ben was sleeping when we looked in on him on our own way to bed. His small arms were pushed above his head, his face flushed and mouth relaxed in slumber. Luke knelt to kiss his sleeping son, then gave the blanket a small pat. His mouth quirked upwards.
"You never can tell, love. He might just be right."
I replaced my earlier incongruous image with one of another small blond boy, being tucked beneath a red blanket. I smiled up at Luke as he joined me in the doorway, and leaned my head on his shoulder. My little family. I grinned.
"The Skywalker men--cuddling Blankie through three generations."
Beside me, I felt Luke's amusement.
"Cuddling practice is always a good thing." He put an arm round my waist. "Besides, he's a very special blanket."