Worshipping at an altar made of Lego; paternity test.
On Sundays we now have something of a ritual in our house and it doesn't involve church. Although my daughter has taken to worshipful behaviour - throwing herself on an altar ... made from Lego.
This conversion to bricklaying occurred on the road to Damacus, or a pilgrimage up the M4 to Legoland in Windsor as it's also known.
This Mecca for little ones must have blown her brain cells and lit a fuse because she appears to have abandoned every other toy cluttering the house - the broken detritus of our equally damaged bank balance.
I blame Ole Kirk Christiansen myself, the former carpenter and founder of the Lego company whose name derives from the Danish words "leg godt" meaning play well.
Lego began manufacturing interlocking toy bricks in 1949. As of 2008, around 400 billion Lego parts had been produced - 62 for every person on the planet. Which means this household is punching way above average given the myriad pieces ranging from the chunky to the microscopic that have littered our life in recent weeks, adding a perilous parent trap to our home - Lego foot. Step on one of these pieces without your shoes on and you'll hit the roof quicker than a tipsy pigeon.
We bought our first box of Lego at the aforementioned visit and ever since our daughter has been hooked like a fish reeled in by pester power and attendant character trait, faddism.
Every Sunday the ritual goes something like this - mummy takes daughter to ballet, daddy has heavily negotiated lie-in with promise of DIY and additional housework some time in the near future. Daddy falls out of bed five minutes before his girls return protesting that he's been up ages, but he's been on the phone to his mother.
Mummy then announces her retirement from parenting for several hours, transferring all responsibility to husband. God might have rested on Sunday, but that's only because he wasn't married.
Anyway, I digress. Daddy then decides the best way to treat his hangover is by heading out into the fresh air and stopping off at his new second home - the Lego shop in Cardiff's shiny palace of glittering delights, St David's.
Not ones to miss a marketing trick, Lego have fashioned a range for girls which is so pink it would make a flamingo sick. And when I enter the giddy maelstrom of the shop's confines I feel a little queasy too.
In fact every week I'm bricking it.
God might have rested ' on Sunday, but that's only because he wasn't married
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|Publication:||South Wales Echo (Cardiff, Wales)|
|Date:||Oct 24, 2013|
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