May the croutons be with you
Jason Offutt
Author’s note: If you’re not a “Star Wars” geek, you probably won’t understand this at all.
When my 10-year-old son was a toddler, I noticed something about small children I’d never understood before, and it came from a galaxy far, far away.
The Boy had eaten about half his dinner when he saw something on the table that wasn’t on his plate.
“Tauntaun,” he said through the wall of grape jelly that hid his face.
There must be a universal law of physics I’m not familiar with that can account for more jelly getting on a two-year-old’s face than what a parent spreads on a sandwich.
“Tauntaun.”
Tauntaun?
Didn’t Han Solo kill one of those in “The Empire Strikes Back”?
“What does he want?” I asked my wife.
She’d know. She could work in international politics if they ever needed a toddler-to-English translator. But given the state of international politics, toddler-to-English may be a little too advanced.
“He wants one of your croutons,” she said, nodding toward my salad.
Crouton/Tauntaun. Makes sense.
The boy was still trying to figure out the whole talking thing.
I picked a crouton from the mound of otherwise healthy stuff on my plate and put it on his. He giggled and stuffed the crouton into his mouth.
“Tauntaun,” he said through the stale bread and pointed at his plate.
I didn’t need my wife to translate that one. He wanted more croutons.
But the word tauntaun bugged me.
Yes, Han Solo did kill one of those sheep-horned ostrich/llama things. But why would my toddler say tauntaun in relation to anything unless: 1) he’s part Wookie (which isn’t much of a stretch), or 2) geekness is hereditary?
If it’s No. 2, sorry kids.
As I watched my smiling child crunch tauntaun after tauntaun, I understood something that has eluded science fiction fans for 30 years.
Tauntaun, Chewbacca, Dagobah, Sith – George Lucas got all those bizarre names for “Star Wars” from a two-year-old.
“Obi-Wan,” the Toddler said as he motioned toward the refrigerator. I don’t know what he wanted, but I think he just proved my point.
Jason’s Star Wars-to-Toddler Dictionary
Anakin: Something you use to wipe your mouth.
AT-AT: Where the toddler’s standing right now.
Bantha: A toddler’s favorite fruit. Goes well with peanut butter, ice cream or Nilla Wafers.
Dagobah: Daddy’s going to the bathroom.
Dooku: I’m not sure, but I think it’s poopy.
Endor: Where the toddler plays when it’s raining.
Hoth: What the oven is. No, no. Hoth, hoth.
Maul: My wife’s mom.
Naboo: It doesn’t hurt.
Sith: Something Daddy says while watching the football game.
Wampa: My wife’s dad.
You see? I’ve broken the code.
Science fiction doesn’t require creativity; it just needs catchy names. So listen to your niece or nephew, kids at the playground, or your cousin Danny who eats paint chips.
The things they jabber will make you rich.
Yeah. Watching my child finish his crouton and request a chocolate-chip Wookiee, I realized I’m sitting on a science fiction franchise, so I’d better start writing, maybe when I finish this diet Yoda.
Jason Offutt’s first novel, “A Funeral Story,” is available at amazon.com.
