Julian discovered a love of the little plastic bricks around his fourth birthday thanks to his friend Jack. This, of course, meant that our entire house since then has been invaded by Legos. Julian loves them... his daddy loves them in concept, but not so much in execution.
I have accepted the fact that they cost more per ounce than gold. I have accepted the fact that they have turned our house into a perpetual national disaster area. I have even accepted the fact that Julian likely loves his legos more than me. But I still cannot get over the incredible jabbing pain of stepping on them in the middle-of-the-night. It is a combination of surprise, waking from a half-sleep, and blood blisters between my toes. It doesn't help that they usually end up at the top of the stairs and have resulted in some Saturday Night Live worthy midnight tumbles. Somehow it always seemed funnier when Chevy Chase was the tumbler.
So please click on the link below for some evidence to this effect. I would have included photos of the house when it isn't clean... but Teresa threatened me with a lego tree. Those are killer!
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