Lego of your adult notions

I have a 4 year-old grandson, N. He's my pal. Consequently, Legos are now an important part of my life. We have a lot of them, but nowhere near what we (grandson N, husband T, and I) ultimately need to be happy. The only limit to the number of Legos you need seems to be the amount of space you have to store them. 

I went into this whole grandparent thing totally innocent in the ways of Lego. Now they are my favorite toy. I look forward to playing with them.

I am happy to report Lego has a new line in pastel colors targeted for girls! Yes, at first it did seem a little creepy and sexist to me. Then I remembered social change cannot always take the straight and narrow path. Sometimes being subversive is the best choice.

If issuing these building bricks in pastels make parents feel it is okay to buy Legos for their daughters, or entices froufrou girls to play with them, then I approve. Plus, I actually prefer the pastel colors. As a former froufrou girl, let me say I wish I had developed fine motor skills and increased my concentration early on by playing with pink Legos. 

If girls have their own private stash and are willing to share, all those Legos will eventually become community (i.e., sibling) property, regardless of gender. Their brothers will finally have access to the right bricks for making pink and lavender trucks. Pink and lavender trucks? Maybe with black bricks added for dramatic highlights and definition? I'm in!

Why only use Legos to combat sexism? You know how intricate coloring books for adults are now the therapeutic rage? Well, I am sure playing with Legos is way more fun than coloring inside the lines, and equally relaxing. Lego should offer adult kits with colors like silver, gold, zebra stripes, leopard spots, you name it. One could design Lego furniture, for crying out loud. Playing with Legos could become the next trendy thing. It beats the hell out of drinking yourself into a stupor and/or watching TV. I have to confess that I am no longer sure if I am kidding or serious (yikes!). Wait a minute... Nah, I'm almost positive I'm kidding.

I live near the Orlando theme parks. In this strange land of wildly expensive entertainment destinations there is, of course, a park called Legoland. Another place called Disney Springs (formerly Downtown Disney - a huge shopping district on Disney property) is also a Lego-lover hot spot. Disney Springs has a sizable Lego store with some amazingly large "sculptures" outside, including this sea serpent. I wonder if they sell it as a kit? I also wonder how much it would cost, and if it comes in mauve? 

This is how I want to feel every day!

Do you love it?

Willful Behavior

This morning T and I went to review and sign our wills. Having an appointment outside of the house requires major adjustments to our retirement lifestyle.  Thankfully we live in the Land of Mouse in Central Florida where tourist-casual clothing rules. 

I wore non-denim capris and replaced my usual ratty t-shirt with a black top that enables me to pass as normal.  It is my go-to shirt for trying to pass as normal.  I also wore leather sandals instead of flip-flops.  I put on earrings and a necklace.  I would have worn lipstick but I forgot about the tube that lives in the bottom of my purse. 

Men have it so much easier.  All T had to do was replace his white t-shirt.  In T-land a short sleeved shirt that buttons up the front and has a collar means "dressed-up." 

I would have put my wedding band on, but Florida weather usually makes my fingers swell.  As a result, most days I cannot get my ring on.  Or if I could manage to cram it over my knuckle, I would not be able to get it back off.  Not being able to get my ring off triggers my claustrophobia, so I usually go ring-less.  This morning was no exception.  If the lawyer needs to see a ring on my finger to figure out us two old farts are married, then I guess it will have to be his problem, not mine.

My hair came out of the low, comfortable pony tail I am now used to wearing.  I twisted and pulled it up on the back of my head with a clip.  Now I'll probably go bald from all the pulling and twisting.  It had to be done, though.  Nothing weirds people out like an old woman with long, gray hair.  Ageist crap.  Actually, I might get it all cut off super short this summer.  I don't think I can go through another Florida July or August with long hair.  I would have to find someone trustworthy to cut my hair, though.  You know how that goes.  I'm not sure I am up for the hunt.  Plus, I hate surrendering to bourgeois expectations.  It is a matter of principle.  

Going against the grain

It's your thing, do what you wanna do

Third children are rare these days, but back when most families had a third child it was an interesting role to play. I rarely got to make decisions about what we watched on TV or what activities we did as a family. But that was OK. I was usually left to my own devices, and I was able to create a fairly wonderful play-world for my self.  There is a lot to be said for a childhood where you are not the focus of everyone's attention. I was able to be myself, whatever that was.  My younger brother did not come around until I was four, and I am sorry to say I really was not all that interested in him. For one thing he was a baby, and then he quickly turned into a boy.  

Back then I not only thought boys were boring, but I thought they were weird, too.  They played with cars and trucks, for crying out loud.  What the hell kind of fun are you going to have involving a truck?  At least that was my perspective.  I was not a "tomboy", nor do I wish I had been one.  Good for you if boy stuff is what floated your boat as a child, but it was absolutely not my cup of tea.  That is not a judgment on what is better or what is worse.  I am a third child and I do not feel strongly about having my way be the right way.  That is not the way the world works when you are a third child.  I am just stating for the record that I was a girly girl and I loved it.  If I could go back and change anything it would to wear more pink.  In fact, I may start wearing pink now!  What a great color.

I have a grandson and I play with him a lot.  I adore him. I would do anything for him. But when he starts in with the cars and trucks my eyes glaze over with supreme boredom.  I play with cars and trucks on autopilot, just going through the motions.  I am not having fun.  Eventually I re-emerge, energized and fully present for tag, hide-and-go seek, drawing, games, and acting like a monster.  I love playing with tinker toys and building blocks.  I love rolling all over the floor and chasing him in the pool.  I fully appreciate the energy that goes into play, and I no longer think boys have cooties. I can see that he is truly creative about car and truck play and it makes him happy.  Cars and trucks seems like good play things to me.  I simply do not "get" the attraction of things with wheels.  However, if that is what he likes, then I am all for it.  I love him.  That's what you do when you love someone, you accept them even when they are different than you are.

I am thankful for boys!  But you know what?  I am thankful for girls, too. I am tired of people putting down those sweet little girls who want to wear pink and be ballerinas when they grow up.  While we're at it, I like little boys who wear pink and want to be ballerinas, too.  And I am very thankful for little girls who like trucks or want to be superheros.  I am so happy that everyone is not like me.  Most of all, I am thankful for the innocence of children who play with what they like, or wear what they truly love, regardless of whether it is gender appropriate or not.  The world is so damn interesting.