Whoever invented Legos is awesome. I mean seriously ass kicking awesome.
He should get an award. (at this point in my rant my curiosity is piqued and I am tempted to google who created Legos but I push that down and get back to my crazy).
My son can spend hours making new "creations" and anything that isn't a video game or a TV show is a welcome activity in my house. Sometimes he even writes little books about his Lego creations. Kind of like a superhero backstory.
So I love them. With all my heart for all the creativity they foster.
I hate them. Seriously with a passion that involves cursing and screaming. I LOATHE THEM
They are everywhere.
Under the couch, on the stairs. In my bed, hiding in the plush bedroom rugs. And everyday I manage to find them while I walk through my house barefoot. Those sharp little corners digging into my foot causing me to suddenly list to one side worse than the Edmund Fitzgerald!
Why? What did I ever do to them to deserve this kind of treatment?
If you're a logical person right about now you are yelling at me to wear shoes or make my wonderful son clean them up (he does for the most part but remember they are sneaky!), and sure that would fix the problem but I don't like wearing shoes inside.
Not for some cleanliness reason or anything cultural, I just like wandering around my house letting my toes hang out.
So sure I could fix this problem but I refuse! My personal freedom is worth the pain and suffering.
Instead I will continue to both love and hate Legos in all their sharp edged multicolored glory.