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"Egotism is the anesthetic that dulls the pain of stupidity." -Frank Leahy
Throughout my day I regularly receive commands from a small but authoritative voice.
The voice usually is saying, "Pway wegos wif me!" Since I have been listening to this voice for some time now, I immediately understand this to mean, "Drop everything you are doing/holding/drinking/eating and sit down and play Lego's with me or I shall start to cry hysterically".
I try to comply with the demand as much as possible. Up until a second ago, I was going to write that the reason I comply has something to do with me being a good mother, and wanting to build memories and invest in my child's life. However, now that I have done some self reflecting, I must confess that I probably comply because I don't want the owner of the voice to cry and wake up baby. Building a Lego horse, another horse, another horse, a house, a tractor, and another horse seems like a small price to pay.
So, since today was like most days, I followed the directions of a two year old and stopped everything (goodbye wants and desires, hello brightly colored, interlocking blocks!). I was prepared to sculpt by request. What would be requested? Usually a horse. One time it was a vacuum and he cried every time it broke (Note: Lego vacuums were never intended for domestic use, the carpet fiber overwhelms them) and I spent A LOT OF TIME reattaching the "handle". I dismantled that horrid thing when he was asleep and I hope he never remembers how much he loves Lego vacuum cleaners...but I digress.
I sat down and the little voice gave me my building instructions: "Build gawbage mommy".
What?
I wasn't sure if my two year old internal translating system had failed so I asked for clarification. "You want me to build...garbage?"
"Yeah!"
I sat there. He looked at me expectantly. I stared at the Lego's. "Ookay..."
I put two small Lego's together. Stacked them simply, one atop the other, and handed it over to him. I was worried. Was this the "garbage" he wanted? Had I suceeded in pleasing the little guy? Had I found a way to make "garbage"?
"Canks mom" (Thanks mom), he said, nonchalantly. He put my Lego garbage in the back of his Lego tractor. I breathed a sigh of relief.
Despite my high opinion of myself, it wasn't very hard for me to make garbage. In fact, it was remarkably easy.
