I received an amazing Lego set for Christmas from my wife. It wasn’t Star Wars related, or film related in any way, nor was it train related. It was the Disney Castle. And it was awesome.
Over 4000 pieces. I built it in about eight hours over the course of two days. By myself. I actually got angry at my family for attempting to help. This was mine to build. I hadn’t built a Lego set by myself in about fifteen years. The last set I remember receiving (for myself) was the Steven Spielberg Movie Studios set back in 2001. And that set only had 433 pieces.
Over the past few years I have played with Lego and built “creations” as my son calls them. Usually I build with my children. Just snapping a piece or two together, not really paying attention. And like most people, we have a love of Lego. We enjoy Lego. Especially my son. (Remember when I wrote about it back in November? Check it out again: Lego!) I have saved all of the Lego from my childhood, minus the occasional lost piece… although, it seems that you always find the piece you’re missing after needing it.
Back to me.
Over those two days in late December, I constantly scurried away to build a Disney Castle inside our Castle. Make dinner? Nope. Shower? No time. I was in the zone. Mastering the hunt for pieces and what was needed next. It brought back memories of my childhood. My brain was echoing terms I used when describing pieces. Two by six. Slant roof piece. Radio antenna… I probably spoke a few out loud as I built the Castle.
Earlier this week, my son received a Lego set that he ordered online using a gift card. He was super excited about it. As he showed it to me, he asked if I wanted to help build it with him this weekend.
Hells yes! I’m more excited about building the Lego set than I am about spending time with my son. Does that make me a bad parent?