Sunday night is movie night, and last night it was The Force Awakens. Child 2 is 9, and therefore mildly obsessed by Star Wars, and Harrison Ford is in it of course, and I’m mildly obsessed with him, so it was all good. We were watching the scene towards the end where the x-wing fighter pilots attack the Starkiller base, flying low through the twisting corridors of metal, dodging enemy craft and incoming fire and the odd girder.
‘I’d be great at that, wouldn’t I?’ I asked Child 2. (Regular readers will recognise this as a standing joke: I am spectacularly bad at flying an x-wing on his Star Wars Xbox game.)
‘No offence, Mum, but if you tried to join the Resistance, they’d be like, we’re good for pilots, thanks, but could you make some snacks?’
And the moral of the story is: there are all sorts of roles to be played in any enterprise of significance.
(And the further moral of the story is: don’t use sarcasm on a smart 9-year-old.)