Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Lego Love.

When does Lego Love die?  Really?  I have instructions lodged somewhere in every room of our house.  My feet have scars from stepping on the tiny pieces.  When I complained about it to my dad, he asked if it was my fault for not picking them up.  Has the man ever seen a Lego?  They disappear into our carpet like I'd imagine Navy Seals do in battle.  They will wait forever.  Somehow using magical forces to dodge the vacuum.  You think I've lost it because I'm giving Legos not only human qualities, but also magical ones?  You might be right.  The boys picked out the same Lego toy today.  They both wanted the beetle and I felt we had avoided a battle.  Score for all parties.  When we got home, I was talked into a race.  This is Daddy's duties.  I don't do Legos or the teeth brushing.  But today, I had to do both.  Cooper called for a race and I accepted.  I knew better than to talk shit to the 6 year-old.  Not because that would make me a horrible mother (I'm not sure I'd be joking) because I figured he'd crush my fumbling fingers.  And I can't deal his excessive celebration, so I played it cool.  He'd shout out, "I'm on step 6" while I was on step 2.  We finished and our house had two beetles, two men with a pick axe and a shot gun, two coffee mugs, two fires with two chicken legs roasting, and I had two boys that were really happy.  Coop pointed out that I screwed up one of the legs. I thought Lego made a mistake, but I was wrong.  He moved my leg and showed how it could be used to balance the bug.  I learned two things tonight: read directions carefully and I'll be wearing shoes in my house for a long time.


No comments:

Post a Comment