Stepping on a Lego in the Dark
Woah, woah! Now why is that page starred as "good day" in my journal? Oh, ha-ha, yes. It is because, right after he hit his head, Dad said "stupid horse" right to my sister's face. Ok, that part is not true.
But, so, if you were to ask my Dad about his least favorite part of our childhood (aside from the pathological lying which, obviously, continues to this day) he would say the above words to you: "Stepping on a Lego in the Dark". I'm here to tell you that seeing the old man step on a Lego in the daytime was not a sign that you were going to have a good day, I'm assuming I've just blocked out the post "night of the Lego" days.
I think, though, that my Dad's trauma associated with the Legos has less to do with messy, irresponsible, ill-begotten, Lego-leaving-behind, punks (his words, not mine!) and more to do the absolutely and totally unfortunate decoration choices of the people who had our home before us. People who had re-decorated in the late Sixties/Early Seventies. People who liked shag carpet, blue, and dark wood paneling. Most offensive, had to be the living room shag which, if you look in your J. Crew color guide, could only be described as "puke". The Legos were like velociraptors, melding with their surroundings. Ready to jump under unsuspecting feet as they stomped by.
So there's your perfect storm: kids, Legos, and camouflaging shag.
Thankfully, Katie and I have slightly better taste in floor-coverings.
Photo note: I have no idea why we subscribe to Money Magazine as we have none and if we did, it would just get spent on shoes.
1 Comments:
Matt,
Velociraptors?
Legos are the razor sharp daisy petals of our love for you daddy.
Signed Max and Miles
Post a Comment
<< Home