Growing up as a child of the 1970s and 80s, I was perfectly primed not only for the original trilogy but perhaps even more for the onslaught of merchandise. Every birthday, every gift-giving holiday, and almost certainly a couple times in between from 1978-1984 or so was an occasion for my Kenner Star Wars army to grow. And I'm not only talking about the action figures, but obscurities like the "Vehicle Maintenance Energizer", the "Land of the Jawas" playset (it had an escape pod!), and most of the flat out wacky Minirig vehicles. How my family even found some of these items, I'll never know. The tales of my grandmother scouring the greater Cleveland area to secure a coveted Millennium Falcon for her grandson are legendary. Pauline Arnold, Bounty Hunter. My family should have owned stock in Kenner.

I jumped back into collecting mania when the toy line relaunched in 1995. I was now a working man with disposable income and a resurgent nostalgia for the galaxy far, far away. I picked up virtually everything Kenner/Hasbro had to throw at me until 2004 when pregnancy suddenly shifted from the "someday" list to the "brace for impact" column for my wife and I. I dropped my Mint On Card obsession cold turkey preparing for the toy budget to serve the ACTUAL child in the house, and not just the adult suffering from arrested development. Besides, I could get the kid started on the toddler friendly (except for the firearms) Galactic Heroes line pretty quickly, right?

In the last few years, my wife and I have worked to align our spiritual leanings. My wife Lulu is a fan of spiritual tomes by authors such as Eckhart Tolle and Wayne Dyer, while my holy texts are my Star Wars collectibles reference books -- the gospel according to Steve Sansweet. Dyer is known for giving away all of his worldly possessions in pursuit of a greater understanding of the Tao, which is pretty close to the polar opposite of accumulating 21 odd boxes full of plastic figurines and the munitions heavy vehicles they rode in on. Now don't get me wrong; Lulu is totally down for an exceptional collectible. I was genuinely taken aback by her excitement for the retro 50s style Russell Walks 'A New Hope' poster at Star Wars Shop. It's just that there's nothing feng shui about toy hoarding, especially when you live in a railroad style one-bedroom apartment with zero storage space. So the onus was largely on me to make some changes.

And so, with varying degrees of success, we've tried to adopt an "experiences vs. stuff" mentality as a family. Things don't make a person happy; memorable adventures and quality time spent with friends and family do. This is a mantra I've had to mumble to myself when I find myself inspecting the new action figure waves far too closely at a toy or comic book store. I haven't fallen off the wagon yet, but I've sure thought about jumping.

My son Scott is now four years old and the mantra is clearly not clicking with him. He has too much of his father in him. Lulu and I gave Scott the chance to earn my collection of Star Wars Buddies, Beanie Babies-esque stuffed animals from the late 90s that Lu began spontaneously gifting me with while we were dating. Because nothing says budding love quite like a stuffed Watto. We'd dole the rewards out each weekend for behavioral achievement, and Scott took to the challenge with gusto. In fact, his determination to work towards the next "guy" (his term) began to take on a focused religious zeal. The behavior shift was the easy part. Scott spent much more time deciding which order he was going to earn them in: Salacious Crumb, then the Jawa, then Darth Maul, and on and on... He had it all mapped out.

I knew Scott had the DNA of a collector when, as he was awarded with one "Buddie", he'd appreciatively receive his stuffed trophy but literally be looking beyond at the remaining characters to be earned. And then during the week would talk incessantly about the next guy he'd earn that upcoming weekend. Sometimes he'd even ask Lulu or I to take the toy to be earned and put it in a special place where he could see it but wasn't able to reach it -- to literally dangle the carrot in front of him.

We had certainly achieved the desired result with these stuffed incentives. After a month or two, the behavioral issue we hoped to curb had certainly waned, but did we create a new monster in its place? The slavish completist collector?! What would be next? Tracking down all the variant covers of "How the Grinch Stole Christmas"? All the Platinum Edition Disney DVDs? Or most likely -- shudder -- each clone trooper action figure variant? My wallet shudders at the thought. Scott's father succumbed to that dark fate long ago and struggled to return to the light.

Luckily he doesn't take his new acquisitions for granted. They're not crated up and stashed away in a government warehouse amid similar immeasurable containers the way I treated MY collectibles for a decade. Every night Scott cuddles up with all his guys: Salacious, the Jawa, Maul, Qui-Gon, Padme, C-3PO, and Watto, along with a stuffed dog and cat. They all get a front row seat for bedtime stories, and in the morning he'll schlep them all out to the couch to enjoy some Playhouse Disney. So it appears that he really DOES value all his Star Wars Buddies and might not yet be consumed by completist urges. Although with two "Ice Age: Dawn of the Dinosaurs" Happy Meal toys in his mitts, he's already asking about when the next trip to McDonalds might be. And it ain't for the chicken nuggets.