Leggo of my Lego

My youngest son, age 8, is a Lego addict.  He is willing to admit that he’s powerless over Legos.  This is an expensive habit.  Needs to be fed often.  I don’t get it, but then chocolate is my drug of choice.

Yes, members of my family have spent hundreds of dollars, satisfying his Star Wars Lego fanaticism.  His latest kit is an extravaganza my sister spent at least $50 bucks on, but the joke is on me.   Seems it’s payback time for the multi-piece toys I naively gifted her children with, a decade ago.  Alas, there are over a gogillion pieces in his latest set for my new puppy to chew. 

New puppy you ask?  Yes, long story, but I digress.  Anyway, ever since my little darling has endeavored to build the Star Wars Deluxe Battleship with the triple phaser stun guns (ages 9-14) this is all I hear these days:

Him:  “Mom!  I can’t do this!”

Me:  “Yes, you can.”

Him: “Mom!!  I’m not 9 yet! Come and help me!  How do I start?”  He is staring dazedly at the directions.

Me:  “Gimme the manual.”  Hmmm. 


Me:  “Okay.  Look, I think we might have better luck if we sort the pieces.”

Him:  “I don’t know how.”

Me:  “Like this.  Dark here, small here, etc…”


Me:  “Son?  SON! Where are you?”

Muffled voice drifts from somewhere far away.  Perhaps from the trampoline outside?

Him:  “Are you done yet, Mom?”

Me:  “YES!  GET YOUR BUTT IN HERE AND BUILD YOUR SUPER FUN STARWARS LEGO BATTLESHIP THINGEE!”  (I get cranky when I’m stiff and in pain from sorting).

Him:  “Okay!”


Him:  “Mom!?  Where’s the first piece?”

Me:  Searching for my antacids.  “Here.”

Him:  “Mom!”  Where’s the second piece?”


Me:  “And so here, we have the base unit complete, Son!”

Him:  “Mom, the dog is eating my gunner stun phaser module number 2!”

(Canine wrestling match ensues)

Me:  “Here.”  I hand over the chewed phaser.  “Now build!”


Him:  “Mom!  Come here!”  Distinct sense of accomplishment in his voice.  “I just finished the second manifold!  Come and see…OH, NO!   MOM!  OHHHH, NOOOOO! MOOOOOOOM!  Distinct sense of horror in his voice.

Me:  “What’s wrong?”

Him:  (tearfully)  “It fell apart!  OHHHH, NOO!  NO, NO!  MOM!  IT’S ALL FALLING APART, OHHHHHHHHHHHH NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!  MOM!  HELP!!”

Me:  (#$%@!)  “It’s okay.”


Him:  “Thanks, Mom!  Let’s show, Dad.  Dad!  Come here!  Dad!  Look what I… OHHHH NOOOOOO!  MOM!!!!”

I’m gonna start a 12 step program.


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Filed under Adoption, Anxiety, Children, Dogs, Humor, Marriage, Menopause, Motherhood, parenthood

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