Like many parents, I hate Legos. The pieces get lost, and I tend to catch an attitude reminiscent of Faye Dunaway’s “No wire hangers” meltdown when I step on them in the middle of the night, while on the way to the bathroom.
This is why I usually tell people never to buy my 9-year-old son Lego anything for birthdays or holidays. But grannies, aunties, and uncles are going to be grannies, aunties, and uncles. So when they go against my wishes and purchase my son a Lego set, they do it in a manner that makes it extremely hard for me to turn the gift down.
It happened again last week when my son’s great uncle gave him a Lego Chicago Architecture gift set, and then told me that he also planned to take my son on a trip to the Chi. The Lego set was his way of introducing him to the city before they went on their trip.
Of course, my son was jumping up and down like a maniac when his great uncle gave him this big surprise. But I was pissed.
I knew that that stupid Lego set was going to bring sadness into my home. I was right. But at first, I played it cool. I calmed my angry ass down, and set aside some time on a Sunday to start building the city with my son. Regardless of my feelings, my son really wanted to build the city of Chicago with those demon blocks of pain, so I committed myself to helping him.
When Sunday arrived, I kept procrastinating, and telling him that we would get started in an hour. When an hour came, I told him two hours. And then another hour. I tried to do everything in my power to make that child forget all about touching that Lego set.
But he wasn’t having it. So finally, I settled down, and we got started. My husband, who wanted zero parts in this foolery, also did everything in his power not be a part of the building process.
We got started on the base, and the directions said that you have to do everything EXACTLY as it’s pictured in the manual. Of course, we messed that part up. Somehow, we didn’t do the base exactly as it was pictured, and my son gave up trying to figure out why after 10 minutes.
What I didn’t know was that after a while, Lego sets like the one his great uncle purchased him will suck you in, and make you become addicted. My son also knew this, but he forgot to tell me about it before we got started. So after he gave up 10 minutes into the “what the hell did we do wrong” building process, he kept trying to get my attention about something. He kept saying something about, “My baby brother is hungry.”
But at that point, I was sucked in, and determined to figure out what we did wrong with the base. Not even a hungry baby was going to stop me.
Somehow, my husband pulled me away from the set. I was defeated, but not for long.
On Tuesday, I decided to finish building the damn thing by myself. I put so much work into it, that I was not going to be deterred. I wasn’t thinking of my son’s feelings, or my husband’s warnings. I was completely being selfish, and that’s not right.
In the middle of building the city, my son helped a little. But not without me fussing at him about losing the pieces, or doing things EXACTLY as it was pictured. After a while, he looked at me like I was a complete nut job, and excused himself to bed.
Since I was so determined and focused, I finished the city alone, and was patting myself on the back for a job well done. The problem was that when my son saw it, he cried, and told me that I was being selfish for not allowing him to help me.
I felt bad for about three seconds. What he didn’t know was that my Amazon cart was filled with three other Lego architecture sets. So I asked him if he wanted to build another city with me (because there was no way in hell I was starting Chicago all over again. Pulling those demon bricks apart made my nails brittle anyway). He said yes, and chose the hardest and most expensive Lego architecture set there was – the US Capitol Building. That particular set was not in my Amazon cart, and it costs $99 dollars and $0.99 freaking cents.
But I have to purchase it on the low, because husband is going to want to see the cash up front, and we’ve already used our extra cash for bills this week. So at this point, I have to weigh my options – start a Gofundme, or rub cream on his great aunt’s tired bunions for a couple of dubs.
The sad part is that I’m probably going to be rubbing cream on my aunt’s crusty toes for a damn Lego set. I think I need an intervention.
Either way, nothing beats the glory of seeing the beauty that you’ve created from those little hell blocks. And yes, I put the damn thing in a display case. My son is not happy about it, but he will get over it, just like I will eventually get over the trauma of touching auntie’s dusty toes for the US Capitol Building. #Murica
And also, I owe my son for being a selfish little prick. He’s never going to let me hear the end of it.
I’m addicted to Legos, and at this point, I’m okay with them bringing sadness into my happy home. Jesus be a rock in a weary land.