The Adventures of Lego Guy

When Ben was little, our lives were consumed with his line-ups and arrangements. He would line up and arrange objects all over the house that could not be disturbed without a serious tantrum. Any group of matching objects was an obvious target. A case of water from Costco stretched across my basement office. Matching black frames from the top of the piano wound around the living room. Jars of spices formed an ever-changing, but seemingly permanent installation in the doorway leading from the dining room to the kitchen.

But every now and then he would select a seemingly random group of objects with which to make an arrangement. Often these groups would stay together for weeks, cropping up in different locations in the house, arranged in different ways, but always together. For several weeks when Ben was two, he arranged a bottle of conditioner, a tube of hair gel and a lemon over and over again all around the house for about six weeks. Every morning I’d find the arrangement, squeeze out some conditioner before my shower and hair gel before blow-drying and promptly return the bottles to the arrangement.  When the lemon started to wilt we would sneak a new one into its place. And then one day, inexplicably, that arrangement was over. The conditioner and hair gel were returned to my bathroom and the lemon turned up in the refrigerator (naturally I squeezed it into a delicious vodka cocktail – it was still fairly fresh). I’m certain something new took the place of this odd, little arrangement, but I can’t for the life of me remember what it was.

For the most part, lists have taken the place of Ben’s line-ups with the occasional exception (those exceptions occurring exclusively in his room these days, a huge relief for the rest of the household). Arrangements remain, however, but they’ve taken a slightly different form. They have more personality now, and more humor than they did when he as two – much like Ben. The Adventures of Lego Guy, currently happening on the top of Ben’s dresser is the most current manifestation of this tendency.

Ben got Lego Guy at a flea market in the school parking lot. Some enterprising youngsters had set up a table where you could build your own Lego Guy for a buck. Ben was thrilled with Lego Guy and it quickly became clear he would be important in our lives when Ben reached near-panic at least three times before leaving the flea market when he thought Lego Guy had fallen out of his pocket. He began sleeping with Lego Guy which created a complete nightmare every morning when Ben was utterly convinced he’d been lost during the night. I had to add an extra 15 minutes to my morning routine for recovering Lego Guy from crumpled sheets, under the bed, lost in piles of stuffed animals, between the bed frame and the mattress, inside the pillow case or any number of other places a tiny Lego creation could get while a nine-year-old was thrashing about in his sleep. All while Ben broke out in a rash, cried, hyper-ventilated, wrung his hands and repeated over and over again that Lego Guy was surely gone for good.

The decision to buy Ben the Lego Dream House for his birthday was actually a difficult one. Legos aren’t cheap and the $59 price tag was quite a bit more than I would normally spend for Ben’s birthday. Add to that the fact that building large Lego creations had proven extremely stressful for Ben in the past, and my knowledge that any day, Lego Guy could be over. I looked at that set of Legos, walked away, came back, picked it up, put it in my cart, took it back and did the whole drill over again. But eventually, I paid for the Lego Dream House and took it home.

Ben was thrilled with his gift, but as expected, building it was a bit of a challenge. At least three times during construction of the Lego Dream House I sent up a silent, "thank you" to the universe for sufficient wine to get me through the process.  When it was finally done I carried the house to his room and Ben positioned it atop his dresser.  Lego Guy has been happily inhabiting the Lego Dream House ever since. He’s slept in his loft, gone head-first through his basketball hoop, roasted marshmallows over a campfire, hung by his toes from an upstairs window, checked his mail and replaced light bulbs while standing on the garage door.

With the recent addition of his new friends, who knows how long this bit might go on? Already they’ve installed a stop-light for people and had a dance party so rocking it rendered them immobile for days. I love Lego Guy and I will certainly miss him when Ben wakes up one day and decides he’s over. But even more than I love Lego Guy, I love, respect and admire the wonder that is Ben’s mind. I know when Lego Guy is gone, that mind of his will produce something else at which I’ll shake my head, laugh hysterically and no doubt marvel endlessly.

Thanks for keeping me guessing, Ben. Lego Guy rocks – just like you.