Every year my kids get a few gifts that either defy logic, have impregnable packaging, require unimaginable amounts of power, or way too many pieces. It’s these multi-piece playthings, that I loathe the most, and at the top of the list is Lego. The name Lego sounds so pleasant. It’s inviting, and its kind of fun to say. For those of you interested in its etymology, Lego was coined by its founder Olik Christiansen from the Danish phrase leg godt, which means, “play well”. The name could also be interpreted as “I put together” or “I assemble” in Latin, though this would be a somewhat forced application of the general sense according to Alan Farneswurst and Ken Shwaboda, a couple of linguists I made up that are doubling as barristas while they secure funding to help bring back the dead language of Jassic.
I hate Lego’s with a white-hot passion usually reserved for Nazis, pedophiles, and prison snitches. I especially hate the ones that are so minuscule you need the visual acuity of an osprey just to pick them up. I’m un-fond of the packaging that is so tightly sealed, that when you exact the required pressure to open the bag, it literally explodes like a land mine, boom, and you’re left with a thousand tiny pieces of anguish all over floor. I hate the photos on the box. Those movie-set quality scenes from some Hollywood blockbuster that oversimplifies what I can only assume to be a project of such complexity that Skidmore, Owings & Merrill must have had a hand in its construction.
A while back, my son and I were standing in the Lego store, and there were all these other Dad’s with their kids, and all the Dad’s had this universal look of panic on their faces, you know the one that screams, “there goes fifteen hours of free time.” Anyway, my kids’ looking at this beautiful reproduction of Downtown Gotham City, and I mean its perfect, right down to the life-like gargoyles on the façade of City Hall, and he’s expecting me to make this dream come true. There’s no way out of this, and all I’m thinking is that I’m six years short of an engineering degree, and don’t have Frank Gehry on speed dial.
Among my friends, (you know who you are) giving the gift of Lego is considered an act of aggression. It can also be used as a form of revenge, usually given after receiving a) a 1000 piece set of Lego, or b) any type of electronic gadget, or action figure with synthesized sound effects that cannot be turned off unless you possess the rare ultra mini hex screwdriver. (I once saw one while visiting the Kennedy Space Center.)
It is an unwritten rule that he who gives the gift of Lego is a jerk and needs to be taught a lesson. So, if you ever find yourself in a position where you need to seek revenge for a gift, allow me to make a few recommendations.
1. Tiny stickers
2. Wood Burning Set
3. Sharpies (the thicker the better)
4. Drum Machine
5. A years supply of Pixie Sticks, (but only in extreme cases.)
I’d like to hear from you on what the worst gifts your kids received this year, and how you plan to return the favor. Drop me a line and let me know.