When I was a child, I was a Lego prodigy. I mean it. I didn't do much of anything else to be honest. While all the other kids were playing tee ball and learning to skateboard, I was tucked quietly away in the corner of my bedroom, building a version of what I call the "Lego demise" that you cannot even comprehend.
The setting for this moment began around Christmas time. I had just unwrapped the ultimate gift from Mr. Claus....the Legoland Forestman's Hideout. Best. Present. Ever. Period.
I unwrapped the present, and I immediately knew what it was. I tore into it right then and there, determined to build the hideout before I opened any other gifts.
I pulled out all the Lego’s, sorted them (as any experienced Lego engineer would) by color, then type. It was at that time that my dreaded nightmare…the day I hoped would never come to fruition…started to: My grand father wanted to help “little baby Jones” put this “dang ol thing” together.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I despise my grand parents. I just hated, and I mean HATED the idea of someone trying to manage a project…something of this unbelievable magnitude, with no experience. And, this wasn’t the first time someone tried to baffle my progress with silly nuisances like instructions, foresight, and reasonable timelines. What!?!?! This is fucking LEGO LAND! This is the only sacred ground that Lego engineers had left! I wouldn’t stand for it. I decided to fight back.
“Grandpa, here are the instructions” I said calmly to him. I had set a trap for him. I set the bait, and waited as patiently as a 5 year old kid could for him to take a nibble at the bait I presented.
It seemed like months went by…tick tock….tick tock. Then it happened.
“Sure thing, let me get a hold of these instructions and I’ll show you how this is done boy” My grandpa said, as he took the bait.
“FISH ON!!!!” I thought to myself. I couldn’t believe my plan worked. As I handed him the instructions, I took the box back. The box contained all my little hands and head needed….the parts, and the picture of the finished product.
Five minutes passed. The instructions were opened and displayed as they should be (for a rookie….sheesh) and my grand father was ready to begin.
“You ready to tackle this son?” He said, as he turned around
“Grandpa, thanks, but I’m done!?” I said, rejoicing inside.
“How the….what the….no instructions…My lord son, that was fast” My grandpa was baffled. He didn’t understand how someone could get something done that fast without instruction, and guidance.
I smiled, and played dumb. He didn’t need to know that my plan was a success. There was no need to hurt his feelings. I mean, it’s not like he wasn’t needed. He filled the political role of staring blindly at a set a prints beautifully. And, his marketing, it was genius. He not only sold the new fortress well, but the complements about my idiot savant ways were an addition only he could have conjured.
I learned two lessons that day that still haunt me. First, Lego’s aren’t a toy. Legoland is the premier place where builders go to be uninhibited by garbage politics and relentless processes that inhibit innovation. Second, for 25 years I’ve been striving to recreate a real life version of the Legoland Forestman's Hideout (set 6054 if you’re doubting me) and I still continue to have the same problems. Well, that and I can’t find any land with conveniently placed round tabs to connect my blocks to.
2 comments:
Greatest LEGO moment ever...........watching your child create something original.
My greatest Lego moment ever:
When I was a child, I was a Lego prodigy. I mean it. I didn't do much of anything else to be honest. While all the other kids were playing tee ball and learning to skateboard, I was tucked quietly away in the corner of my bedroom, building a version of what I call the "Lego demise" that you cannot even comprehend.
The setting for this moment began around Christmas time. I had just unwrapped the ultimate gift from Mr. Claus....the Legoland Forestman's Hideout. Best. Present. Ever. Period.
I unwrapped the present, and I immediately knew what it was. I tore into it right then and there, determined to build the hideout before I opened any other gifts.
I pulled out all the Lego’s, sorted them (as any experienced Lego engineer would) by color, then type. It was at that time that my dreaded nightmare…the day I hoped would never come to fruition…started to: My grand father wanted to help “little baby Jones” put this “dang ol thing” together.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I despise my grand parents. I just hated, and I mean HATED the idea of someone trying to manage a project…something of this unbelievable magnitude, with no experience. And, this wasn’t the first time someone tried to baffle my progress with silly nuisances like instructions, foresight, and reasonable timelines. What!?!?! This is fucking LEGO LAND! This is the only sacred ground that Lego engineers had left! I wouldn’t stand for it. I decided to fight back.
“Grandpa, here are the instructions” I said calmly to him. I had set a trap for him. I set the bait, and waited as patiently as a 5 year old kid could for him to take a nibble at the bait I presented.
It seemed like months went by…tick tock….tick tock. Then it happened.
“Sure thing, let me get a hold of these instructions and I’ll show you how this is done boy” My grandpa said, as he took the bait.
“FISH ON!!!!” I thought to myself. I couldn’t believe my plan worked. As I handed him the instructions, I took the box back. The box contained all my little hands and head needed….the parts, and the picture of the finished product.
Five minutes passed. The instructions were opened and displayed as they should be (for a rookie….sheesh) and my grand father was ready to begin.
“You ready to tackle this son?” He said, as he turned around
“Grandpa, thanks, but I’m done!?” I said, rejoicing inside.
“How the….what the….no instructions…My lord son, that was fast” My grandpa was baffled. He didn’t understand how someone could get something done that fast without instruction, and guidance.
I smiled, and played dumb. He didn’t need to know that my plan was a success. There was no need to hurt his feelings. I mean, it’s not like he wasn’t needed. He filled the political role of staring blindly at a set a prints beautifully. And, his marketing, it was genius. He not only sold the new fortress well, but the complements about my idiot savant ways were an addition only he could have conjured.
I learned two lessons that day that still haunt me. First, Lego’s aren’t a toy. Legoland is the premier place where builders go to be uninhibited by garbage politics and relentless processes that inhibit innovation. Second, for 25 years I’ve been striving to recreate a real life version of the Legoland Forestman's Hideout (set 6054 if you’re doubting me) and I still continue to have the same problems. Well, that and I can’t find any land with conveniently placed round tabs to connect my blocks to.
Toodles,
Cap’n Jones
Post a Comment