Lego. Creative Destruction.

Lego.  Is there a better toy? 

I was obsessed with it as a kid: from those initial Duplo bricks - great for making towers and race cars to throw across the room - to the "Technic" sets with their gears and motors.  On any given day, from age 2 to 12, there was a good chance you'd find me lying on the bedroom or living room floor building away.

As with any exceptional toy, Lego both challenges the mind and harms the body.  For every child who has learned to follow picture directions by playing with Lego, there is another who took a trip to the ER with a "blocked" stomach.  For every budding engineer or architect who got her first taste of independent design when the directions were inevitably been lost, there is another child who was rushed to the dentist after trying to separate two stubborn pieces with his teeth.  And for every youngster who spent an afternoon with his Lego spread across the living room floor, there are 2,647 instances of pained cursing after having stepped on a misplaced block.  This last aspect is, perhaps, the only real downside to Lego.  Children who play with it often, especially in shared spaces, are exposed to an almost unimaginable degree of muttered swearing. 

Over the weekend we bought Mimi her first set of Duplo, and she loves it.  Unfortunately, so do I.  Even with these larger blocks, I can feel the builder in me coming out.  While Mimi's happy to stick the odd block onto another, pretend one is a teacup, or make "vroom, vroom" noises pushing around a shabbily built Duplo car, I get a bit more into it. 

Mimi enjoys playing with the projects I build for her, though she's a bit impatient when it comes to the build itself.  She doesn't quite have the concept of something being "done" yet.  This makes sense as her approach to play consists almost entirely of destroying whatever she is given. 
The plane below was my fourth attempt at the type.  With each one I tried to make it both more realistic and more resistant to toddler tampering.  A vain pursuit, I knew, but a fun challenge nonetheless. 

Finishing the build to the sound of impatient cries, I delivered the plane to Mimi for inspection.  She was sitting, rather imperiously, in her toy box. 

It seemed that the plane had passed muster.  Mimi was intrigued and the plane seemed to be holding together.  This idyllic play state lasted a full twelve seconds. 

By the time I had sat back down on the couch, the tail was at the bottom of the toy box, the wings strewn across the floor, and the cockpit tossed all the way into the kitchen.  So much for my attempt at toddler-proof design. 

Honestly, I don't mind this destruction.  I'm happy for it, actually.  It just means I get to build more.  Hmm, I wonder by what age kids enjoy watching their father build 1/10 scale radio controlled 4x4s?  3 years old sounds about right to me...