I took away all the Legos on Friday. Every single last one of them.
Both of my kids love to play with the Legos. My oldest builds amazing working things out of them, such as a gumball machine that actually takes change and drops out a gumball, a safe that he can secretly open and close. My youngest loves to build the actual vehicles and buildings that come in the kits, using the directions to perfectly construct these items. He also builds other unique items, using the Lego guys to play out scenes, talking to himself in various voices for hours. It’s a multipurpose toy that I highly encourage the use of.
Until they are scattered throughout the house. I see dollars all over, under the couches, on the counters, in my bed. I pick them up, put them in the bucket and then find more. They are coating the floor of my youngest son’s bedroom and often I step on them. Which, by the way, is a rare form of torture that is only known to parents of young ones.
So, on Friday they brought them into my office and dumped the whole huge bucket out on the carpet under the desk. They wanted to watch youtube videos of how to create new, interesting builds. None of this I have a problem with. What I do have a problem with is hours later, when I went to sit down, my feet were buried in Legos, and much like standing on an ant hill, I swear I felt them crawling up my legs and biting my feet. I asked the kids to clean them up. They didn’t. I asked again and said I would give them 10 minutes and started a timer. My youngest lay on the couch and moaned that it was too hard. A knock came at the door and it was our neighbor who wanted to talk to my oldest. He went outside and decided to chat with her instead of cleaning up.
When the timer dinged I grabbed the Lego box and scooped them up all up. Oldest was still outside. Youngest was moaning with one eye open watching me do the majority of his job. When there was a scattering of about 15 Legos left he jumped off the couch and tried to help. I said to him, “I got this, buddy. I don’t mind cleaning them up for you; I know it felt too hard. So, I can do it for you, “ I refrained from sarcasm in my voice, just genuine understanding. That sentence could come out either way, but I wasn’t aiming for martyr. I wanted him to know I understood. Sometimes things overwhelm me too.
So, I then walked into their rooms, calmly, and took all the random Legos off the shelves and floor. I very carefully placed the built ones on the top of the bucket. I wasn’t being mean, that wasn’t the point.
Then I put them on the top of the kitchen cabinet. You can see the whole bin up there, but it is clearly out of reach. Sure, they could climb up and get it, but they both know that is not a risk they should take. I explained to each of them that their choice not to clean up the Legos left me no choice but to put the Legos on break. They will get them back when they can show more responsibility for their toys.
They have asked me each day for the Legos. My youngest has even dug some out from under his bed, but he is not sneaky, he built something and promptly showed me and I told him they needed to go with the other Legos, it makes no point if they still get some.
When will I give them back? Probably in a few weeks, when my feet finish healing.
I Made A Human, Now What? 