My first movie theater experience happened when my three older sisters let me tag along to see the flick Yours, Mine and Ours.

Not the 2005 version starring Dennis Quaid and Rene Russo. I may have been a late bloomer, but I wasn’t that late. I mean the movie that featured silver screen legends Henry Fonda and Lucille Ball. That flick premiered in 1968, which means that I was 10 years old. My iPhone calculator tells me that this was 58 years ago. I can’t be that old! Besides, my wife is constantly saying that I act like a juvenile.

Yours, Mine and Ours is the story of a widower with ten kids who meets and marries a widow who has her own brood of eight. Growing up in a family of eight kids, I could empathize with the controlled chaos involved with feeding and clothing a family that’s large enough to form its own baseball team. And I don’t even want to talk about what it was like to share one bathroom.

My favorite scene from that movie took place when Ball’s character went into labor, sending a tsunami of panic rushing through her household. After a motorcycle got jammed under the bumper of the family’s station wagon, Fonda’s character commanded, “Get a crowbar and pry it loose!” One of the younger boys, who had just reported to Fonda that Ball’s contractions were only six minutes apart, takes it the wrong way and exclaims, “What?!”

They don’t make them like that anymore. There weren’t any 100 MPH car chases or machine gun battles that expended more ammunition than the entirety of a World War.

By the time a modern kid starts kindergarten, he or she has probably watched more hours of video than I have in my entire life. I’d better get on the stick if I hope to catch up.

Watching movies on TV is OK, but some flicks deserve to be seen on the big screen. These include, according to my wife, any motion pictures that feature Chris Hemsworth or Robert Downey Jr.

This might be why we recently went to the theater to view The Mandalorian and Grogu, a recent release starring Pedro Pascal.

We don’t subscribe to the cable channel that’s owned by the Mouse, so the Mandalorian character is somewhat alien to us. But even more alien is the enchanting little green creature named Grogu.

Grogu has been described as a baby Yoda. I can certainly see the resemblance. Yoda’s family reunions probably descended into mayhem when the rambunctious juvenile males began to use the Force to give one another wet willies and atomic wedgies. No wonder Yoda chose to lead a solitary life on a swampy, snake-infested planet that’s not unlike Florida.

Grogu has become so popular that he’s evolved into a cultural icon. His likeness is inescapable, appearing on everything from kids’ meals to stockings. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s even Grogu toilet paper.

Our 6-year-old grandson is a Mandalorian fan. His parents have access to the Mouse channel, so we watched a few episodes of The Mandalorian TV series when we last visited them.

Which was good because we weren’t totally clueless when we took in The Mandalorian and Grogu. Like many movies that are destined to become cult classics, it opened with a hair-raising, 100 MPH chase that included numerous bursts of machinegun fire. Or, in this case, bursts of blaster fire.

I’m not giving anything away when I say that the Mandalorian and his diminutive green sidekick get into some seriously sticky situations but escape by using both muscle and mind. Whenever Grogu appeared on the screen, the audience emitted an audible “aww.” Grogu is so homely that he’s cute.

He’s also described as being a toddler despite attaining 50 years of age. Once, as the Mandalorian strode across the screen on his lanky, human-length limbs, Grogu was obliged to totter along behind him on his teeny green legs. I wanted to shout, “For goodness’ sake! Let that poor little guy ride on your shoulder!”

Being a toddler, Grogu has a limited vocabulary; his speech is limited to unintelligible yet soulful coos and warbles. But he’s an easy keeper when it comes to eating. Grogu will gobble anything that slithers or crawls, including an angry, locked-and-loaded scorpion.

There are critics who have criticized The Mandalorian and Grogu. Those people are probably taking themselves too seriously. This flick should simply be viewed as a rollicking space Western, nothing more, nothing less.

The movie was a pleasant way for my wife and me to spend a rainy afternoon. It also made me want to adopt. Preferably someone short and green.

— Jerry’s book, “Dear County Agent Guy,” can be found at www.workman.com and in bookstores nationwide.