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I believe in toys

December 21, 2011

I don’t buy many gifts or shop much at Christmas, prefering to let my daughter shop for herself on my card. However my son insists on a toy. Over the years we have built a Duplo town and railway, a set for the novel Heidi out of Brio and a stack of pillows, we built models and jigsaw puzzles, Lego, then a Puzz 3D for 5 or 6 years straight. The dining room table would be cleared for action as the turkey and dressing were wrestled into the fridge and the last sliver of pecan pie was slipped onto the tongue. The fire was left to burn low, candles snuffed and the lights turned up as the real work of Christmas began.

This year we celebrated Christmas early so I can already relate it. After dinner the table was slid over to the wall and the carpet cleared, chairs stored on the periphery and sleeves rolled up for the Lego Excavator. Instructions were duly laid out, a control centre for small parts was set up, and a pathway for making it to the outside door or other necessities was duly marked out. The women were eventually relegated to a supervisory role only with some latitude for commentary and appreciative remarks. The batteries were bought, and the pillows stacked as the various actions and capabilities of this toy were tested.

Please enjoy with me The Man Who Saved Christmas.

Lots of other points of interest, as the characters test an early dictaphone.

One Comment leave one →
  1. December 22, 2011 10:11 am

    Thanks for this post!

    I have to confess I have spent hours and days and weeks with Legos as a boy (and I’m still just a kid). Right before my extended family’s recent early Christmastime together, my father (who got me into such play and who is a model builder too) presented me with two completed metal models of Ford Model As, a coupe and a pickup truck: the one he’d built long ago but repainted, and the other I’d found tucked away in a trunk in an attic, a gift he’d given me years earlier when I went away to undergrad school so long ago but that I’d never taken the time to work on much, something I gave back to him recently. (As a very little boy, he’d ride in the rumble seat of his father’s model A, so the scale model cars have special meaning. The toys are no longer being made, he learned recently when he googled to try to find spare parts; the Hubley Manufacturing Company no longer exists, so he whittled out of a piece of wood a tiny motor fan.) In my dad’s retirement, in his fairly feeble condition now, he took time to finish and to put finishing touches on the two vehicles, putting them in display cases for me to look at — right over there. I am touched.

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