When I was growing up, I was pretty ambivalent toward lego toys. I was a K’nex girl. But I do remember, once my brother got to building age, having to clean the darn things. They got everywhere, and they were hard as stone so if you stepped on one while running to, ya know, whatever 10-year-olds run to, you got a pretty significant owie. (That’s not what we called them. In my family if you got hurt the best you got was a “You were playing.” which meant “You got injured while doing something other than a chore, and you are not bleeding (profusely) so get over it. Toughen up, kid.”)
Anyway, what i DID like about Legos was that they snapped together like it was what was meant to happen. Legos are meant to connect to each other. But like any good star wars clone wars spaceship builder knows, those connections are most secure in the small numbers. You start getting hundreds of them together and suddenly you get fault lines, the parts where the whole breaks into segments that will just never stay together as well as their smaller pieces. This was illustrated a few weeks back at KidStuff, the grade school church program at the Austin Stone Church where I work. They built houses made of walls that one of the kids had fashioned before hand. And though each of the walls was sturdy (we gave up on tearing them apart after several sore hands), the buildinng as a whole lacked structural stability.
I think it’s sort of the same with people. We were made and meant to connect. And in small numbers, we seem to do just that. Connect, bond, strongly. But if you get too many of us, we break off into small groups that are tightly bound, but don’t so much keep well with other well bound groups.
Except, in most cases, in my life, when all worlds collide.
Anyway, Teresa’s little brother has started leaving his legos all about the world. That’s….sorta where this all came from. But I saved it as a draft and now, not sure where I was going, I’m just going to publish.