legos | Good Times with Jess

I love summer! And I’m sooo ready to put my kids on the bus. Any bus really. It’s time for them to gooo.

They started the summer off with a 90/10 split. 90% getting along and 10% ready to kill each other.

I don’t want to say the split has completely inverted, but maybe?

Yesterday we were fighting over one Lego brick. And when I say we, I do not mean me.

I know I’ve mentioned this before, but I cannot emphasize enough how my kids can create a fight about ANYTHING.

But also it can’t possibly really be about one Lego brick. Maybe it’s about school’s starting. Maybe it’s because BB has decided she’ll wake up at 6am to get in the swing of things for middle school, but isn’t going to bed any earlier.

That’s definitely not helping.

RB, my 6-year-old, LOVES Legos and builds all the time. BB, my 10-year-old, likes legos and likes to play legos with RB.

RB worships the ground BB walks on and would much rather play with BB than on her own.

BB requests I partition off the yard so RB is not allowed to approach her. That goes as well as you’d think.

Playing Legos together usually works for everyone. They have plenty of sets, and many builds that are original creations.

Some Legos started off as BB’s and some as RB’s, but a clear delineation does not last long. If we were in a court of law with any one Lego brick, a jury would never be convinced beyond a reasonable doubt to reach a verdict on ownership.

(Yes I’ve been consumed by the Clancy trial and jury verdicts are on my mind.)

If by some small miracle my kiddos really did manage to keep track piece by piece, Opal the Destructo Cat is on the scene and has confiscated a fair share of bricks.

We keep cleaning out treasures from under the couch, but that’s not as exciting as it once was.

At first we found things from years ago. Now it’s just a 6-pack of mice from yesterday.

In case it’s not obvious from my writing, but I hope it is! I live for all things funny.

When I’m not losing my mind over a sibling fight, I’m trying to incorporate jokes and imitations of inanimate objects into my parenting.

BB said I did my best one yet this summer. Next time you see me, I’ll be happy to do it for you. I was one of her poor poops she didn’t want to let out at camp.

Which in retrospect is ironic, because I spent the summer yelling at everyone,

“NO MORE POTTY TALK!!!”

It’s also an uphill battle, because everyone in my family except I can fart on command. Arguably a very amazing talent.

When I say no more potty talk and no one says anything, but then BB gives me a side-eye and farts, I’ve got nothing.

BB gave me the highest parenting compliment I could ever dream of. From the back of the car she said,

“You’re the funniest mom!”

“I AM?!?!?!? YOU REALLY THINK SO!??!?!?!??!”

BB dislikes my over-enthusiastic reactions. She immediately hedged her bets,

“Well you’re the funniest mom I know and I don’t know that many.”

Still! I’ll take it!

And lest you think this summer was just beach, Legos, and poop imitations, we also have a house project which may or may not be nearing completion. Send thoughts and prayers.

Captain has spent years building or intending to build a retaining wall along our driveway.

The concrete was poured this week and the forms come off today for a big reveal.

Captain presented the math to me the other day on how much he spent on all things wall versus what it would’ve cost if someone had come and built it for us 3 years ago.

You may be surprised to hear we didn’t really save much money, BUT we’ve had the joy of the process. Which is priceless?

RB DOES love tools, building, and helping her dad, so that has SOME value. Maybe not 3 years worth, but who knows?!

When her future partner tells me RB is on year whatever of some unfinishable house or car project, I’ll enjoy a commiseration drink with them and pray it was nature not nurture.

While we’re talking about nature versus nurture, there’s BB’s sense of humor. She told me,

“I’m funny just like you!”

“You are so funny!!!” She really is. Yes I’m biased, but she is.

Then BB added,

“Yeah, I’m funny and then I get annoying.”

“Really?”

“Like you.”

Wheels up in a week. No stowaways allowed

I’ve been obsessed leading up to the live-action Little Mermaid. A week before the release, I bought movie tickets, mermaid dresses, nightgowns, shell purses, dolls and books.

It’s a magical upgrade to the original and the perfect first movie outing for mermaid obsessed RB.

RB is convinced the mermaids are real and BB is more believing than I would’ve thought. BB remarks,

“I just don’t understand how they got Flounder to talk.”

Somehow the talking crab and seagull are a given.

Reviewers said the movie was a cash grab by Disney pandering to Millennials’ nostalgia.

Sure and I’m SOLD. I loved The Little Mermaid and I love that I can share this new diverse version with my kiddos. I’d be wearing a mermaid dress too, if the youth XXL wasn’t so short.

Yes I bought the Target girl’s size 18 to match BB and RB. The waist was up around my armpits, so I just wore my favorite Mermom tank.

It’s a gorgeous movie and LONG. RB bounced from recliner to recliner. If I have my way, I’ll be watching Barbie in a reclining seat too. I’m as excited for Barbie as I was for The Little Mermaid.

We have no shortage of Barbie dolls, BUT there’s always room in my wardrobe for more pink.

People have asked me if I’m taking the kids to Barbie. It’s PG-13. I may live to regret it, but I’m planning on it!

I thought Ursula was going to be the end of us. Before seeing the movie, RB was terrified of her. She made me hide the 3-inch-tall Ursula doll. But then somehow the ginormous Ursula who filled the entire movie screen didn’t phase either kid. Maybe by the two hour mark they were in a candy-popcorn coma.

I asked RB about it. She said,

“The mermaids are real, but Ursula is pretend.”

And the 3-inch Ursula doll is somewhere in between?

BB, who I can count on to parse every random thing that comes out of my mouth, asks me,

“Why is childhood precious?”

“What?”

“You said childhood is precious. Why?”

“Well… you have a magical brain.”

“A magical brain?”

“Your brain makes your toys come alive, talk, act things out. I remember the day my brain stopped doing that: I had a Barbie in each hand and they couldn’t talk anymore.”

“They couldn’t talk anymore?! But Dad has a magical brain. He’s great at playing Barbies!”

“Dad IS great at playing Barbies.” Who knew?

It’s one of those intangible things I didn’t know about him until we were thrown into the child-rearing trenches. Captain knows his way around Barbie’s Dream House.

Days later BB yells for me. She wants her completed lego sets down from the top of her wardrobe. The last time she played with them they fell apart and her yelling, screaming and crying is why I put them back together and out of reach.

I ask,

“Are you sure?”

BB is in a panic and starting to hyperventilate,

“I need to play with them NOW before the people stop talking!”

“What?”

“You said they’re going to stop talking when I grow up!”

I have never retrieved a toy faster.

The legos are talking. Ursula is hiding in my closet. Barbie is waiting for me to remember how to play with her and I’m shopping for a Merdad shirt for Father’s Day.