Hey everyone—look at what I did. I built a Lego fire truck, and, admittedly, I haven’t felt a sense of accomplishment this strong since I finished grad school.
So what if the box says for ages 5-7. The piles of small parts, pages of instructions and an attention-seeking infant made the prospect of assembling the Lego fire truck seem daunting. After days of my little guy’s requests, I bit the bullet and started stacking Legos. Lo and behold, we have a fire truck. So what if there is a small bag of "leftover parts." They apparently don’t serve a crucial purpose. The ladder works, the wheels turn and my little guy is having a ball playing with it.
Just look at those moving parts!
Is it wrong that I feel a bit territorial over the fire truck and keep telling Evan to be careful while playing with it?
Wait until he wants to start building the huge Star Wars ships and things. I was so mad I almost cried when Caleb took his apart and mixed up all the pieces with his regular odds and ends of Lego’s. We’ll never be able to find all the pieces again nor get it back together.
Oh, Becca. I’d cry. There is no way you’ll ever get that back together again!