Some people are now calling him Grogu but, to me, his name is (and always shall be) Baby Yoda… and I’m worried about him. In the latest episode of The Mandalorian, our little green hero was abducted by a squad of Dark Troopers, it was awful. I mean, the episode was called “The Tragedy” and it certainly lived-up to its name. Now he’s on board an imperial cruiser with Moff Gideon and, well, what if he gets scared or hungry, dammit?!!!

The problem I have is, in spite of the fact that I completely understand Baby Yoda is just a fictional character from a TV show, who was abducted by non-existent people, I still feel like I should be out looking for him. In fact, I’d take things one step further and say that I love Baby Yoda so much, I’d have to think seriously about the answer if you asked me to choose between him and members of my immediate family.

I mean, sure I love my Mum. She’s wonderful, she raised me to be the man I am today and I am eternally grateful for the unconditional love she’s shown me over the years. Same with my dad. Barry is a wonderful father and he’s done nothing but love and support me in every way, in spite of my many and varied flaws.

That said, if push came to shove, I’d have to stop and think hard about whether to save my Mum and Dad from some sort of life-threatening situation, or the little green guy. Seriously. Sure, I’d probably relent and save the parentals when all was said and done, but the point is, I’d hesitate. More than you might think.

Mum, Dad, if you’re reading this, I love you. Baby Yoda, if you’re reading this, I love you too. And I’ll be there to save you soon. Stay strong, little guy!

Nige

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