I loved legos as a kid. I had this huge tub of those classic multi-colored blocks in my bedroom. I’d pull them out and root around with my hands as the legos made that crashing sound that only small little pieces of plastic can make. My two best friends would come over and together we would build epic castles and towns complete with colorful streets, schools, fire stations, and homes. We’d mix in little green army guys, a transformer here and there, and build towers with poker chips for good measure. At the end we had our masterpiece. We spent hours, even days, putting it all together. Then it was time for the real fun. Breaking it down!
We would gather up all my stuffed animals, balls and other poor toys, and hide around the corner from my bedroom floor. Then we would take turns without looking and lob the toys at our masterpiece. We could hear the crashes, and excitedly guessed what we may have toppled. Was it the castle? Did we knock down the invading green army guys? After a few rounds, we’d all swoop back in making ambulance siren sounds, and go to work on repairing the broken buildings and caring for the casualties. This cycle repeated for days.
I have three kids, and I’ve watched each of them break a lot of toys. Sometimes it is on purpose, sometimes it is purely accidental. It seems though that there are a lot of lessons.