We have this little issue at our house. I think this big, yellow square of wisdom sums it up fairly well:
The boy was a Lego junkie. He constantly had Legos out. Every time I did the laundry and checked the pockets of his jeans… I would find Lego mini-figures and random, odd-shaped, plastic bricks. I could have built a vacation home with all the Lego pieces I collected on the shelf in my laundry room. And every time I walked across the house in my bare feet, I would step on a Lego that was sharper than a double-edged sword.
It would make me think all manner of horrid words in my head, until a black cloud would rise above me, while I rubbed my foot and decided that a total, anesthesia-free amputation would be less painful.
Thing 2 loves toy tractors. And toy trucks. And toy cars. And toy snowplows. And toy cement mixers. And also any other toy that comes with wheels. He loves the big vehicles and the small vehicles, and he has recently discovered Matchbox cars.
For his birthday two weeks ago, he received approximately sixteen thousand Matchbox cars, in every color and vehicle denomination. We have Ferraris and Cadillacs. We have Hondas and a shady, full-size, vintage 1974 van with black windows. We have pickup trucks and old Dodge Darts. We have Rolls Royces and Ford Mustangs. And thirty times a day, Thing 2 carries his enormous bucket of Matchbox cars into the living room…
… and dumps them on the floor.
He plans the Big Bucket Car and Truck Dump depending on how clean our living room is.
And all the angels cringe in horror when we miss one during the Great Vehicle Pick Up, because they know (THEY. KNOW.) that a bare foot is going to hit that blue van with the darkened windows, that’s driven by some shifty, pot-smoking vagrant who collects aluminum cans for spare change to buy his lunch with.
And if y’all thought that stepping on a Lego brick in the dark of the night with no shoes on is awful…
… then you haven’t really lived until you’ve encountered a Matchbox car the same way.