I love LEGO. I always have. This, above, is our old train table, which years ago was requisitioned to be a LEGO table. As you can see, Grace’s half seems to be winning, but what you can’t see is the four large bins of LEGO pieces, all full, stacked to the side. One of the drawers under the table is also full of LEGO pieces.
I show this mess only to demonstrate my family’s passionate commitment to LEGO. I have no idea how many pieces we have, but I do know that a couple of years ago Matt decided we ought to sort them by color. This effort, with fully four of us working, took a whole weekend.
That was a coupe of years ago. Suffice it to say there are more now. Even Grace has gotten into the swing of things, with a strong interest in LEGO Friends (the plethora above mostly came through birthday and Christmas presents this past year). While I am generally opposed to the “girl versions” of ANY toy, I like that she’s playing with LEGO at all, so I’ll let it slide.
Several years ago I observed (and wrote) that watching a small child work on a LEGO kit is an excellent metaphor for parenting in general: you watch them do it wrong, and you have to sit on your hands and not jump in to correct them, even though you know the pain and undoing-and-redoing that lies ahead for them (and you). These days, Whit flies through the kits on his own, and presents us with huge ships and rockets and vehicles he has made on his own.
For example, here. This picture provides another shot of the LEGO table, and also a punch in the gut gasp when I see him without his front teeth. Though Whit loves an elaborate LEGO kit, he also spends at least as much time making things up, building ships and spacecraft that he designs in his own head. Personally I think this imaginative, free-form play is probably even more valuable than learning how to follow the technical manuals.
Our passion for LEGO is also evidenced in our the three visits we’ve paid to Legoland. Something about Legoland is sheer magic for the children and for me.
And then there’s just that it’s such a wonderful company. This story here, about the letter a boy wrote to LEGO after he lost a minifig, and their totally awesome response, brought me to tears.
And finally, there’s the reason for this love letter. My father-in-law sent Whit a large LEGO for his birthday. FedEx showed that it had been delivered, but nothing had shown up at our house. I called LEGO, distraught. I explained that my son was a huge LEGO fan, that he was turning 8, and that he was desperate for the Excavator. I think we can all agree that LEGO was in no way at fault here; they had shipped according to when they promised, and according to all records, the box had been delivered. Yet the man on the other end of the line told me he would re-send another Excavator, and he would do so with expedited delivery, with no additional charge to us to to Whit’s grandfather, just to make sure that my eight-year-old had the set he so longed for to open on his big day.
I just wanted to publicly demonstrate and declare that my family has always been, and will always be, unshakably and immensely devoted to LEGO as a product, a concept, and a company.
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