Yeah, I’m going to need someone to get me an honorary degree in engineering, stat. We were carried through the day buoyed by the 4-year old’s effervescence. That and being so absorbed in following the directions with the various self-assembled toys that there was no attention left over for looking about and wondering where Mom had got to.
I put together a marble run called the Vortex. Loads of part number 13 to attach to piles numbered 12, 11, 10, and 9, respectively. Bring on the engineering degree, of course, but add managing a “helpful” 7-year old to the mix and it’s somewhat amazing no blood was shed.
After that adventure, there was the Lego helicopter. My sister had suggested this particular instrument of torture and, having proven adept at putting together the demon Vortex, the 7-year old pressed me into service. I prevailed. Both toys are now assembled for the breaking. The swear words were minimal, the temper tantrums (mine) were manageable, and the melt-downs among the children were limited to one or two.
Besides, what could be better than hunting for atom-sized Lego pieces than having the younger of the two miscreants find a big enough gap between my elbow and my ribs to wiggle through on his way into my lap?