Toby: He's a baddie. He's my favourite baddie.
Beatrice: He doesn't say please can I get down. He just gets down and plays with his toys.
Toby: He does say please can I get down. And then he kills someone.
Beatrice: Not kill someone.
Toby: Please can I get down.
Me: Yes, Toby.
Toby: Not Toby. I'm Darth Vader.
Beatrice screams, very loudly, for a prolonged period.
Me: Stop screaming, Beatrice.
Toby (with the weary air that belongs to the vastly experienced): She's giving me a headache.
Me: Me too. Beatrice, what's the matter?
Beatrice (weeping): Toby's Darth Vader. I not like Darth Vader.
Me (reassuringly): Darling, Toby's not Darth Vader.
Toby (affronted): Yes I am.
Beatrice: He's going to kill me with his light saver.
Toby: No I'm not.
Me: You see? He's not.
Toby: I'm going to kill her with my light sabre. She's Luke Skywalker.
Beatrice (seriously distressed): I'm not Luke Skywalker. He's a boy. I'm Cinderella. I don't want Darth Vader to kill me.
Toby: I have to. I'm a baddie.
Thus do my days pass.
