Luke listened as his mom talked. He was just about to rip through the paper for his first gift when he looked up and said, in a rare moment of genuine sweetness, "You know it's just a number, right mom?" He held her gaze for all of two more seconds before tearing into the present, and the look on his face when he drew out the lightsaber was nothing short of a childlike grin. Sure, people had gotten him plastic lightsabers before. He had a whole arsenal of them, in fact. But this. This was the real thing. Luke could just tell as he drew the "weapon" from its plastic sheath, cutting it slowly through the air as he tested its balance and weight.
"I will always treasure this, Mom." He said, perhaps a bit more solemnly than any almost-eighteen-year-old really should have.