Who: See-Threepio, Anakin Skywalker, Baby Shmi What: New Programming Where: Skywalker Penthouse When: Late Morning Rating: G
..... "Oh dear!"
Shmi was crying. Shmi was crying and Threepio didn't know what to do. He was getting all frazzled. Frustrated, even. And he wasn't even programmed to become frustrated. Sure, he could be slightly miffed (especially at Artoo who was always giving him a headache -- only it was more like his cognitive wires crossing, really) but he couldn't be frustrated. But if he could be frustrated, this would be the closest he ever was to it.
"Oh dear, oh dear!"
If only The Maker were here. He was coming home soon, wasn't he? Oh, Threepio would even take Artoo's help at this moment. But that stupid little astrodroid was off looking for one of the Solo children. (He could barely even believe that nonsense about Princess Leia and Han Solo having children. Humans were a strange species!) Some nonsense about flying. Threepio didn't like to fly. He preferred to keep his two feet on the ground. Flying, indeed. Indeed! And leaving Threepio to take care of the baby. The baby!
Threepio was pacing back and forth in the penthouse living room. He didn't know what to do. Not a single thing. Only, he knew that crying wasn't a good thing. Crying was bad. Oh no! Was she sick? Maybe she was sick. Perhaps she was allergic to something. Him, even! She could be allergic to him! Oh dear. That would be bad. Very bad indeed. Perhaps he ought to put her down and put himself through a contamination bath.
"Shh! Shh, quiet, little human. Little Shmi. Oh do quiet that fuss. At least until the Master comes home. He'll be back soon. Oh I praise The Maker he comes back soon. I'm going to require a twelve hour shutdown to repair myself from this incident. That is ... if he doesn't scrap me for doing such a poor job! Oh dear!"