Abbey's Road: Building sisterly bonds and Lego creations as a respite in early summertime
Summer is in full swing at the Roy household, and with all the extraneous papers and trappings of life with three kids in school having been relegated to the recycle bin and definitely not the trash (see last week's column about how responsible I am), we have moved to the phase where we actively combat boredom in creative ways.
Sometimes, I wish I could exchange the 2024 suburban parenting experience for my "Little House on the Prairie" books, where Pa goes off on a three-day bear hunting expedition and Ma is sewing dresses from bolts of calico and the kids just wander off in the panther-filled woods all day without cellphones. But my time machine is broken, so here we are.
Our kids are 7, 11 and 14, so anti-boredom tactics tend to look very different from one to the other. I could use this space to list strategies, but that would be boring for all of us and many smarter and more ambitious parents have TikTok accounts for that very purpose.
Instead, I will share with you the one thing that, at this juncture (but ask me next week), appears to be working for all three: Legos.
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Any parent of Lego-loving kids knows how this cycle works. For those who are unfamiliar or still in the “But they might choke!” stage, allow me to fill you in:
Kid sees a $40 Lego set on shelf in Target and immediately decides they must have it or die.
Grandparent/Santa Claus/collective aunts are made aware of said desire, and Lego set ends up under the Christmas tree or next to a birthday cake or otherwise becomes situated within the walls of our home.
Lego set is completed in a blissfully peaceful two hours.
On the second day and half of the third, Lego set is played with and enjoyed.
Completed Lego set is moved to a place of decreasing prominence and begins collecting dust/getting stepped on by cats.
Set is placed in a designated out-of-the-way location — in our home, this is a place known as Legoland (a conglomeration of mismatched surfaces in our finished attic) — where it continues to collect dust and slowly loses pieces that make their way to the floor and cause exceedingly painful but non-life-threatening injuries to unsuspecting parents’ feet for the remainder of their existence, which as far as I can tell is… forever.
Cycle repeats.
The problem with Legos is that after you put together a set, eventually the novelty wears off and you are left with a complicated and painstaking-to-disassemble three-dimensional puzzle with deathly sharp corners, which you can choose to look at, play with or take apart and make into something else.
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Friends, great news: This is the summer we disassemble and make into something else, and it has been an adventure.
Given, the dining room has turned into a war zone of exploded plastic bricks, but my three girls are playing together quietly and cooperatively without looking at screens, for now, that is a price I am willing to pay.
When they play with Legos, they fall into roles: Tiny is usually the one assigned to climb three flights of steps to retrieve an obscure, stray piece from Legoland; the Architect does whatever Bookworm says, but only within reason; and Bookworm masterminds the bigger picture.
Their creativity is soaring, and all it took was a little boredom to jump-start the process.
They’ve made taco trucks and hair salons and something with Stanley cups, a cafe and an ice cream shop and many other things I can’t recall.
It hurts my eyes to see the mess, and it especially hurts my feet when I am not careful about where I’m stepping, but honestly, if this is a thing they want to continue for the next decade or so, I’m willing to deal.
Will the Lego Renaissance last all summer long? I’m not that naive. But for now, I will put away dishes and listen to their stories, and it may not be a panther-filled jungle, but it’s definitely an adventure that’s all theirs.
Abbey Roy is a mom of three girls who make every day an adventure. She writes to maintain her sanity. You can probably reach her at [email protected], but responses are structured around bedtimes and weekends.
This article originally appeared on Newark Advocate: Abbey's Road: The secret to sister bonding lies in Legos
