My sister eagerly shared this story with me, promising, “Here’s a story for your blog!” After I heard it, I paused. Finally I agreed. “Alright, sure,” I said.
I heard it, so now you have to read it. Here goes, in her words, roughly.
Bridget [three-years-old] had such a giant poop that it was nearly coming out of the kid potty. I had to call her father in to see it, it was so big. We agreed that it bore a striking resemblance to Jabba the Hut.
When all had sufficiently marveled at its grandeur, it got flushed. This made Bridget very sad. “No!” she cried. “Don’t flush Jabba! I love my Jabba!” And for days now since, she will still refer to her poops as Jabba, claiming her love for him and sorrow at his ultimate demise. To console herself, she will open a Star Wars book to a page with Jabba and gaze upon his loveliness in mourning of her flushed poop.
That’s taking Star Wars fandom to a whole new level, in my opinion.