Susan and I spent a recent Saturday cleaning out a few closets in dire need of organizing. One of the closets was in the kid’s playroom, which doubles as an auxiliary storage facility for the Lego corporation. Looking over the sprawling city of assembled police stations, firehouses, planes, cars, and little Lego people, I started to calculate the cost of it all. Somehow, instead of the good people at Lego paying rent to store these items in my home, I’d been bamboozled into paying them to keep it all.
My immediate urge was to vent at the boys, tell them we needed to cut back on the Legos. But the little guys weren’t in the house. Once they’d heard the cleaning word that morning, they’d mysteriously disappeared outside to play with Nerf guns, another corporation we open our bank account to for the privilege of storing their products in our garage. (I am in the wrong business.)
After we finished cleaning the closet, I looked over the Lego city in the playroom once more and remembered a time over thirty years ago when I’d wanted a go-cart. My dad pointed out that all the money I’d spent on comic books over the years, the ones stacked in my room and in my closet, would have bought a nice go-cart. I eventually got my go-cart, but always felt a little guilty about the money “wasted” on the comics once I stopped reading them.
But in the playroom, with the memory vivid in my mind, I realized something. I hadn’t thought about that go-cart since the day I stopped riding it. But I’ve thought about those comics often: the stories, the characters, the fantastical worlds they whisked me away to. Those comics carried me so much further than the go-cart ever did.
I walked out of the playroom that day with a new appreciation for Legos. Those colorful blocks are not taking up space in my home; they are taking up space in my boys’ imaginations. And that is worth every penny.
2015 update:
Our youngest, Cort, came home from school after a day of taking state-wide end-of-grade tests. One section dealt with reading and comprehension. His instructions were to read a story, then answer some questions about what he’d read, including describing the author’s intent. As he read the story, he began to think it sounded eerily familiar. It wasn’t that he’d read it before, just that the situation sounded close to home. A woman named, Susan, his mom’s name, a playroom full of legos, which he and his brother had enjoyed for years, and a dad who vents about too many things. He got quite the shock when he read the author’s name, mine, at the bottom of the story.
Hi Linda! After this post hit Facebook, a friend put a photo of a bunch of Legos on my wall. The caption read, "Home Security System: Throw on floor before leaving." Funny stuff. Every parent of kids with Legos can relate. I agree that some things never change.
Every time my son steps on one of his son's Legos in the night, I can almost hear him grumbling clear across the country. But, I also remember the many times I stepped on one of his Legos myself, and the stacks of comic books as well. Surprisingly, just today he posted a picture of his son with a mass of new "classic" comic books spread out on the kitchen table… somethings never change.
I remember those days as well, Susan. 🙂
I so enjoy their endless hours of creativity, fun and exploration when they are immersed in their Lego world, it's rewarding as a parent to observe them immersed in something they love. It started years and years ago with hundreds of Matchbox and Hot Wheels cars strewn across our living room 🙂
Happy Birthday, Clif. Enjoy the show!
Chris,
Thanks-I don't feel so bad now with all the National Geos and Sports Illustrateds I have stashed everywhere! And thanks for your ray of sunshine with which I will enjoy another birthday, as we head Down East to see the Blue Angels next weekend. Take care, compadre. Clif
Good stuff, indeed, Melody. We all need to use our 'maginations.
Chris, I love this post. And where the process led YOU (and us, through you.) Not only because I know your guys really ARE so proud of their collection and the work they've put into the imaginative creations, but also because of my nephew's growing enjoyment of his (also growing) collection of these toys. They're magical, and watching what this small child, several younger than your boys, has begun to do with them and the way they capture his focus and strengthen his ability to follow plans and directions. AND while learning to follow the plans, still be free to let his Very Big Imagination run free. (So reinforced in a conversation with his friend-girl who was distressed at his choice NOT to follow directions one night, when he declared, "My mom likes me to use my 'magination!") Good stuff…
Hi Linda! Glad it resonated with you. Actually, the Legos are in the playroom, all along the edges of the walls. They still play with them all the time and are pretty diligent at keeping them away from the middle of the playroom floor. I'm sure they do that not to spare their parents from the "Lego" dance, which we have done on occasion, but more to protect their precious Legos from getting crush by bumbling adults. 🙂
Love it! I'm glad to hear the Legos were in a closet and not under your bare feet, in the dark when the "I just stepped on a Lego" dance is never truly appreciated. Hang onto those Legos – you'll have even more fun bringing them out for your grandchildren!
Speaking of "empire," Donna. I think I'll have to draw the line at the $400 Death Star they've hinted at before. 🙂
Christina, You never know what will stick and what won't, so the best you can do, I think, is keep the message consistent and frequent. Glad you liked it.
I enjoyed this post because: (1) I could relate to it, due to the Lego wasteland in our house, (2) I like hearing how a simple, brief message from a parent to a child can have impact years later, and (3) we are trying to teach our son about saving money. Thanks for sharing this, Chris!
Wonderfully articulated……and you made me feel better about our own lego empire!!
Thanks, Ed. Good to see you here. 🙂
Very nice, Chris. Couldn't agree more, couldn't have said it better. Excellent.