LegosPosted: September 17, 2009
I am buried in legos.
No matter how often I pick the things up, they find their way out of the containers and strewn across the floor.
Each week it is a different room. Usually the boys bedroom, where the small pieces can hide under the radiator, under the armoir, under the dresser, between all the nooks and crannies. Blending in with the other strewn toys.
But if I do not know how to locate the legos, my feet do. With a step through the darkness, a sharp pain shoots through me. I have found one of those 1 x 2 red rectangles. It is stuck in my foot.
Today it is the living room. Four fully loaded containers of legos have been spread across the room. The boy files through each box, searching feverishly for ONE particular piece. He is frustrated by the thousands of other pieces that get in his way. He has a vision, and he will do whatever it takes to fulfill it.
When he finally surrenders, I enter the room and survey the disaster of creative fervor. I grab a small broom and begin to sweep the pieces, large and small into one manageable pile. Together we both start clearing away all the tiny pieces, returning them to their random containers. We move furniture to reveal lost caches of legos resting away from public view. Finally the floor is clear, and the boxes are moved to their temporary home off to the side of the room.
He proudly displays his creation. It is a DeLorian like racing car. All red. Very sporty. It is a bit reminiscent of the Bat Mobile. I admire the creation and the process that created it. Despite the constant mess, the creative purpose is its own reward.
Of course the car will only exist for a few days. It will soon return from whence it came…to be dispersed amongst its origins, in the large container, of thousands of disassembled legos.