Expressions of Love from a Lego Builder Extraordinaire

One of my favorite things about being a mother is sharing stories of my youth, and relating to my children. Often, I try to go beyond "no", and explain why. And when they don't get it, I explain being taught the same thing by Babbette (my mom), and Bear and Lambie nod their heads in sympathy.

Surprising to us, our lengthy, vacant flower bed (have I mentioned I don't like gardening?) near our front door, became the nesting ground for a perfect, single, red tulip. Lambie insists that she planted it for me, with an acorn. (Hazelnut) I assured her that Oak trees grow from acorns, and I didn't want to tell her it was actually a Hazelnut... The Captain assures me that he didn't think to plant it for me, although it would have been in his best interest to take credit. Bear just tries to not step on it, as it cranes for sunlight.

I caught Lambie, one afternoon, trying to peel back the petals, prematurely, which she got gently scolded for. Since a simple "It will harm the flower" didn't work, I told a brief story from my youth.


The humble flowerbeds of my youth contained bleeding hearts. My adventurous, exploratory sisters had discovered that when you pinch a not-yet-blooomed bleeding heart, it makes a delightful popping noise, and a single drop of water would fall out. My mom gently, but firmly explained that the flower needed that drop of water. It needed to remain sealed, until IT was ready to bloom. I told my kids that I would watch bleeding hearts, and it would take all of my control to not pinch and pop them open.

Over the years of having a boy who builds intricate designs and contraptions with Lego's, which is apparently his gift of Asperger's, I have been the recipient of small Lego gifts. When Bear was 5, after seeing the movie Wall-E, he made me a 1 inch tall Wall-E, with eyes that moved like Wall-E's. The next year I was given a small Mt Mazama that erupted into Crater Lake. For Mother's Day he begs to buy me Lego's, and everyone for any celebration, he feels should receive Lego's. The other day I was given a bleeding heart flower.

What I discovered, when I was handed this treasure, at 6am, was that all of these years, Bear has been giving me tokens of things I've expressed joy from. He has put his heart and soul into these creations, focusing on the detail much more than his regular creations. I realized that this is how my boy, who doesn't seek after affection, shares love. He was telling me he loved me by giving me flowers.

And as I pinched the bottom of this beautiful creation, it made a little pop, and a single drop of "water" fell out.






The greatest treasure was discovering that he was telling me he loves me.

Toy Regret

When I see this photo, of this train by Ideal, I imagine winding the crank, and watching the gears rotate, pushing the train along the kitchen table of my youth. The whistling conductor's hat moves up and down, as he whistles "This Old Man".

I loved Colorforms, Shrinky Dinks, my glow-in-the-dark plastic elephant whose trunk I'd chewed the tip off of. It was one of those things...I chewed and chewed on it, yet when the tip of it popped off, I was alarmed! Surprised! Oh dear...

I miss Fashion Plates... I still want to make a Sno-Cone...

There is a store in Oregon City, near La Famiglia (the best restaurant I've been to in a long time, for the record), that is overflowing with toys of my youth. Their market? I imagine gen-X adults who have toy regret!

I walked Lambie through the store (because there was still 22 minutes on our parking meter), revelling in all of the toys and the precious memories I had of them. I would check the price, and think "Is it worth the price?" and then, "What would I do with it, really?"

What I realized as I walked through the store was that this was another occasion where there is a time and a place for everything. Including toys. Until this moment, I had regretted prematurely donating my favorite toys. I missed them. I wanted MY kids to enjoy them. But they need the toys of now, for them. Which they will donate in their time, and maybe feel toy regret.

When I asked The Captain what his toy regrets were, and I know he has them, he said, "It doesn't really matter because I still would have donated what I did, or it would've broken, and I'd throw it away." He was absolutely right.

My heart leaped as I saw the precious train by Ideal, and I turned the crank. It creaked and groaned and sputtered a whistle of toy that was 30 years old. It no longer was energetically piping "This Old Man", but whining something that could be translated as "Please put me out of my misery. It was a good life." ;)

Unwilling to give up, I Googled the precious train, and every listing I saw said something to the effect of "Seems to whistle something, but can't make out what it is. Moves slowly along a flat surface." My train wasn't like that. Mine had energy. Mine piped proudly. Mine was clean. I like the toy in my memory better. That's the one I will keep. No need to rebuy in attempts to relive. I lived my childhood once, and it was an awesome childhood. Everything that matters more than those fun toys, I still have, and my family and friends aren't leaving me any time soon.