I hate Lego. It’s evil. Sure, Lego sounds innocent and
educational
– but it isn’t. Those little building bricks are pure purveyors
of evil.
I hate Lego. It’s evil. Sure, Lego sounds innocent and educational – but it isn’t. Those little building bricks are pure purveyors of evil.
First, Lego’s multiply. I once bought Junior a kit with a spaceman – and only a spaceman – in it. Within a week, that Lego had morphed into an entire Martian village complete with aliens, a space family and a newfangled reactor that enabled the humans to breathe on Mars without wearing helmets.
Junior once got a kit with a diver in it. Before I knew it, the entire Pacific Ocean was floating in my living room. You don’t want to know what saltwater and a hammerhead shark can do to a couch. It’s not a pretty sight.
And Lego doesn’t just damage your sofa. It can do some serious damage to parents, too. Ask anyone who has been in their child’s room after dark. That room is a minefield of Lego’s. It’s like the Lego’s were having a party and, once the parent walks in, they scatter. And of course you step on the Lego. Once you do, the brick wedges itself into your heel causing a pain more intense than childbirth.
If you are lucky enough to make it to the hospital – be careful. Only special surgical teams, trained in Lego extraction, can safely remove it. If you get an inexperienced team, you may never walk again. At the very least, you can kiss your cute summer sandals goodbye.
If that isn’t enough to convince you that Lego’s are evil, consider this: Lego’s come in kits. Oh, yeah, this sounds like a great idea. I mean, if your little junior wants to make a model of the Pyramids, you just buy a Lego kit that has every piece you need, plus instructions. But wait! What if you lose the instructions? Have you ever tried to figure out how to make the Sphinx using 497 pieces of Lego without instructions? There are rocket scientists who cannot do this.
And what happens when you lose one of the bricks from the kit? Forget it. You can’t make a Pyramid if the cornerstone brick is missing. You might as well burn $80 on the barbecue, because the kit is useless – unless you step on it, of course.
But the worst part of the Lego legacy of evil is that they are addictive. It doesn’t seem that way at first. One day your child is a perfectly normal kid, having fun with friends. Then he starts getting up early to make a quick racecar before breakfast. Pretty soon, he stops sleeping – staying up all night long to build a castle complete with moat, drawbridge and fire-breathing dragon.
Soon, his grades start to slip. All he thinks about are Lego’s. He’s spending his entire allowance on Lego kits – and he’s going deeper in debt to the grandparents so he can finance a huge purchase of Lego with special features like working windows
It’s sad. And there’s no place to turn. It’s hard to believe, but here in America we don’t have Lego rehab. But we sure could use it. Because once your child is addicted, nothing can part him from his Lego’s.
Believe me, I know. Harry still has his childhood Lego collection. He’s a grown man, for pete’s sake. And when we moved, his Lego’s were in a special box, hand-carried to the new house. The dog didn’t even get such treatment.
So, you see? Lego’s are evil. If you still don’t believe me, come summer, take a look at my pinky toe. And remember – nobody is safe from Lego’s.
