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In which I share a couch with Darth Vader

Blond and cherubic, with a hint of mischief glinting in his eyes, he sat on the couch, surrounded by cheerios, crayons, and a gray, winged mask.
"Hello!" I smile at him, and he grins back.
"Is this a Tron mask?" I ask. He frowns, and I quickly correct myself. "Thor, I mean."
He beams and nods.
"What's your name?" I ask eagerly.
He glances around furtively and then whispers, "Dawf Vadew."
"Darth Vader? Wow!" I cry, honored to be in the presence of such a famed figure.
An exasperated sigh. "Brady..." says the woman across the room, "Darth Vader is the bad guy, remember? Why don't we want to be like Darth Vader?"
His brow furrows, "Dawf Vadew is bad because...because he cutted of Wuke Skywalkew's awm."
"That's right." She sighs again, "He keeps calling me Emperor Palpatine. Every time I ask him to do something he answers with, 'Yes, Master'".  Her James Earl Jones impression is impeccable.
Darth Vader (Brady?) grins at me, as his mom gathers him up to leave. 
I can't stop smiling.

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