Wednesday, January 12, 2011

When Legos Come to Stay: A Photo Essay

Our home has been infiltrated by the Legos.

Like the eighth plague of Egypt, these sharp, minuscule pieces of plastic have assailed and prevailed.  They came in stockings, were disguished as gifts and stoawayed in backpacks and laundry bins on the kids' return from holiday visitation with their dad.  Impartial to gender, they came, fell apart and pierced our fleshy souls (as in the bottoms of our feet, not the metaphysical essence of our beings).  


Girl Legos are different from boy Legos, in case you were wondering (and no, the difference is not discerned by looking at their accessories).  Leah got a pink, white and orange set that can be built into a cute little Victorian home complete with a white picket fence and flower gardenette. 
And apparently, once your girl Legos have been assembled, you are to perform Lego Plays. 
In this story, a young Lego Girl longs for a pony.  

Lego Girl: Oh, Mama, I so wish I could have a pony.
Lego Mama: Well, dear daughter, you know I cannot afford to give you a pony.

Aside: This is called, Art Imitating Life.

Lego Mama: But your birthday is coming up and you do have a rich uncle.  Why don’t you write him a letter?

Aside: This is called Wildly Imaginative and Slightly Disturbing.

Lego Girl does write her rich uncle, and lo and behold, on her 8th birthday, she is given a pony named Patty, because “that’s a good name for a horse.”

Spunk watched the play with anticipation, because in his chubby little hand (how sad I’ll be when those hands stop being chubby) he held some Lego characters of his own, and they were itching for a role.  So when I jokingly said that maybe Sis’s Legos needed a Lego doctor, because they kept falling apart between scenes, Spunk saw his chance. 

Using his best siren voice, he pushed his Lego pirates and Lego truck onto the set.  Like the Marx Brothers, his swashbuckling pirates clambered from their perch, bumping into each other and losing limbs of their own. “We’re the ambulance guys,” they said.  And then, as an afterthought, “To the rescue!”

Because these guys are the rescuing type...
Sis was devastated, because, of course, this meant her Lego Play was ruined.  She retreated into the bathroom and wasn’t to be coaxed out, until, that is, we agreed to watch the production from the beginning and keep our big mouths shut.  
The pony is much loved.  Unfortunately, after some time (perhaps 15 minutes), Lego Girl begins to neglect Lego Dog, Skittles.  There is sadness and confusion.

The play is so engaging that Sport, passing by for a drink of water, becomes intrigued and watches the Lego Play.

Lego Mama confronts Lego Daughter and shares her disappointment in the girl’s behavior when…

Sport: So, is that, like, horse poo?

Sport, Spunk and I lean towards the brown Lego pieces.  I press my lips together because I can feel what’s coming.  But it doesn’t stop the explosive laughter. 

Lego Poo?  BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.  Because I am that mature.

Our promise broken, Sis again retreats to the bathroom only to return to set up the final scene (which includes no lose brown Legos).

 Lego Girl and Lego Mama share a tasty brunch throughout which Lego Girl continually rolls her eyes at everything Lego Mama says.  The End.

Not to be outdone, Sport brings out his completed Lego set—a task that took exactly one day of seclusion in his bedroom.   
This assemblage is unaccompanied by any script or character arc.  It’s simply Endor ‘from that Star Wars movie with the Ewoks.”
And this is my favorite part—because that’s Lego Chewbacca!
And I know what you’re thinking.  What if Chewbacca ate Skittles before stealing Patty from Lego Girl so that he could use her Lego manure as fuel for his dying planet?  What a great sequel, right?  
Someone else will have to coax her out of the bathroom though, because she’s not listening to me anymore.

(I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that the eyeroll is the tenth plague of parenthood.)

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