Lego Apocalypse!

My husband is a tinkerer. That's different from a tinker. Here's what happens, he will go out and buy a guitar. A perfectly lovely guitar. But before he has even played said guitar, it has been taken apart into tiny component pieces and is strewn all over our living room floor. The same thing happened when he took up shooting things with airguns. Our house became overrun with springs, barrels, gun bits and pellets. For years I was fishing these bits out of the tumble dryer filter.

My boys are now 4 and a half and have begun to do the same thing. But with Lego. “Surely this is normal?” I hear you say. “That's what you're meant to do with Lego!” But it's not just the bricks. It's the Lego men. These poor unfortunate men (and ladies) are pulled apart limb from limb. First the heads come off, then the legs, arms and hands. My living room looks like a Lego dissection class. There are body parts everywhere. Quentin Tarantino has nothing on the scene that has been created.

Then I started to worry, are they just like my husband, little tinkerers in the making, or is the Lego man habit indicative of me bringing up two tiny Dexter wannabes? Oh perhaps they're creating the next toy version of Frankenstein's Monster. We will see how this plays out, but at the moment I'm adding it to the list of creepy things that children do. Along with telling me about the boy on the stairs that doesn't talk but has green eyes.