I remember the excitement of getting a new LEGO set (like it was yesterday). The glee, the awe, the trepidation. It took time to build the set. All the while, watching it form from nearly unrecognizable to the finished product. One piece at a time. It grew and morphed. It became what it was meant to be.
And then your brother destroyed it …at least, mine did.
There’s nostalgia looking back on it; but I also remember the lull. The slump after building a set. On the one hand, you feel accomplished, on the other, you feel regret. Why can’t a LEGO set need to continue forever. The perpetual LEGO machine. Sure, you can play with it, fly it around, sail it across the blue studded ocean, or roll it across carpeted terrain. It’s just not the same as creating and putting each piece together.
Maybe I should thank my brother. …Not that I realized it at the time. He gave me a chance to relive the excitement, the thrill, the adventure, and the discovery (as long as none of the pieces were broken).
When you take apart LEGO, do you break it down piece by piece until no one piece remains attached to another?
The great thing about LEGO is, that while it looks great on display, you can always play with it. And, if someone takes it apart, there are new adventures waiting…some without instructions.