Lego Minifigures: The Funeral Series?

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAThe boys and I have been spending a lot of time in the fields behind our house. The weather has been picture perfect, and our two new dogs, Huck and Rosie, are frolicking like young pups should. There are moments of pure joy–like when I watch the boys smiling as they race the dogs in the tall grass–and there are moments of pure annoyance–like when the boys want to play Simon Says. There’s so much I love about being a dad, but I really can’t stand children’s games: “Simon says, leave me alone!”

The highlight of these walks involves  little pockets of conversation we have between picking up dog poop and wiping away tears because someone got attacked by a thorny branch. Take this conversation from earlier in the week:

Owen (8): Dad, when I grow up, maybe I’ll work for the LEGO company and I’ll design LEGO lands and stuff.

Me (43 for one more day): That would be so cool, O.

Owen: Yeah, and, and like maybe I’ll be in charge of making LEGO minifigures, and I’ll make one of you.

My heart swells with pride. My boy wants to make a LEGO figure out of me! This is the epitome of love and respect coming from a third-grader.

Owen: And I’ll make him have glasses, and bald on top with a patch of hair under his chin like you have, and he’ll be holding a cup of coffee.

MY BOY. I can see the figure now, sitting on my desk, inspiring me as I write another one of my best-selling books. But wait, what’s this? I’m awakened from my daydream as I hear Hayden calling out something a few feet behind.

Hayden (7): Yeah, and we’ll bury the minifigure with you because you’ll be dead by then. Lego-Spooky-knight-

Me: NOOO!

I envision my gravesite, on a similarly beautiful afternoon, with mourners tossing in LEGO figures the way others would flowers.

Hayden: Yeah, you’ll be dead by then, right? Well, wait, when do people die again? Seventy? Eighty?

Me: Well, it depends. You have to take care of yourself so you can live longer. That’s why you shouldn’t smoke, or lecture-lecture-lecture, blah-blah-blah…

Owen: Yeah, Hayden, look at Pop‘s dad. He’s still alive and he’s 98! That means he took care of himself.

At this point I make some lame attempt to explain to the boys the theory of “everything in moderation.” I tell them how too much of anything is bad for them, and then I give some terrible analogy about ice cream. How they eat ice cream most nights, but if they ate an entire container every night, they’d probably be unhealthy. I mean this from a cholesterol standpoint, but I miss the mark.

Owen: Then you’d be so fat, you wouldn’t be able to leave the house.

Me: Well…here I try to defend overweight people but the moment is lost…

Owen: Dad, how DOES Santa get down the chimney? I mean, he’s fat. Really fat, right? How does he do it?

Lego_SantaAnd hear we go again–Santa! Everything comes back to Santa Claus.

Me: I think he uses a magic dust made out of snowflakes (Oh, God. am I encouraging drug use for them down the road? I wonder.)

Owen: I KNOW Santa’s real, because we get gifts on Christmas that are signed From: Santa.

He reaches out to hold my hand, wanting me to reassure him that Santa does exist. I think, yeah, third grade, that’s when the doubt reaches its highpoint. I hold his hand firmly. I watch his little brother bounce ahead of us with the dogs. I breathe in the fresh air and then it dawns on me that there are three topics my sons never tire of: LEGOS, Death, and Santa.

This conversation has become the most exhausting thing about my day. I go from being immortalized as a LEGO, to my untimely death, topped off by the reminder that Santa’s days are numbered, too.

Maybe tomorrow, I’ll walk the dogs after bedtime. Alone.

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Image 1,2,and 4 courtesy of Johnson Cameraman

Image 3 courtesy of Lego-wiki

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17 comments

  1. Ah, if you dislike children’s games, you might not be as fascinated as I was by the fact that a lot of our ‘children’s games’ today originated in Victorian and Regency England as suitable adult activities for mixed gender groups to engage in at at house parties. Musical Chairs was called Move All and didn’t have music. The announcer would just call out ‘Move all’. Otherwise, it was played just the same.

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  2. On a completely different note, 3rd grade is about right. it was about 3rd grade when I had the ‘Revelation’ on who Santa really was. It was actually Easter. First was the realization that all the Easter stuff was the same stuff I found when I was playing ‘Dress-up’ in Mom’s closet. So if Mom was the Easter Bunny then she must be the Tooth Fairy and Santa as well.

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  3. Your boys certainly keep you on your toes Michael! How boring (albeit peaceful) that walk would be without them. Santa talk strikes fear into my heart – I cannot hold secrets or tell lies, even nice ones. It kills me when my 4th grader asks the Santa question!
    I enjoyed this post immensely.Thanks Michael 🙂

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  4. It is amazing and inspiring how you interact with your kids. I know what you mean about exhaustion in doing so, as I experience the same. Sometimes I think my father had a wiser approach, only replying with “um” and “uh-um” in our limited interactions.

    But if we did that, what would we blog about then?

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  5. Did I sense a hint at a birthday for you? If so, hope it’s a great one. You’re writing delights, inspires and creates laughter that can’t help but spill out all over the place. Thanks for sharing these wonderful moments you have as a Dad and fellow human. Love the Lego conga line!

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