Monday, December 13, 2010

Lego My Christmas

This year, I finished my Christmas shopping by around the middle of November. Fin-ished. I did it all online. Little parcels have been arriving, like packages from Dale in TLOTR, for weeks now. I've been walking around with a swollen head, full of pious self-congratulation.

And then the people at Lego did something to illuminate why they are rolling-in-it Danes driving shiny red sportscars to their villas on woodsy islands in the Baltic and I am in a very messy home office in a suburban bungalow: they sent a holiday catalogue full of brand new kits.

So now Christmas morning will be a time of great mourning if Someone Short should awake to find that there is no Pharaoh Visits the Turkish Baths or whatever it is. No Ninjago. No freaking freaking HOGWARTS.

Darn you, you Danes, you. I am very cross with you. I think you owe me and many other semi-organized people an apology. And maybe a gift certificate to the Lego store. That would go a long way.


  1. I hate Lego for the very same reason. Just say no to Lego. Can you imagine, how many small pieces of Lego plastic there are, trapped in vacuum bags in landfills everywhere? However, as the mother of two small boys, I realize I've probably already lost this battle before it's begun.

  2. I am now so accustomed to stepping on sharp little bits of Lego in the dark that I know I could totally handle that whole hot coals thing. Easy peasy.