The summer's dinosaur obsession seems to be waning. We're back to all Legos, all the time. The Boy checked out The Ultimate Lego Book at the library again and has revised his Christmas list from all dinosaur stuff to half dinosaur and half Lego. I even got asked by The Boy if I could teach him Danish to give him a leg up on working as a Lego designer some day. In days gone by, boys dreamed of being policemen and firemen. My son informed me at an early age that those professions were "too dangerous." So far, he wants to be a paleontologist, Lego designer and animator for Pixar.

Although, the dinosaur obsession ended about the time he tried to convince me to take the bones of three chickens and convert them into a "dinosaur skeleton" (thank goodness that bullet got dodged), I almost miss the dinosaur phase and the endless stream of facts. The toys were limited to a few plastic dinosaurs generally set up in a scene somewhere around the house.

Legos are not so containable. Although I try to insist that they stay upstairs, the sharp little toys seem to migrate, and they never seem to all get cleaned up at once. Sigh. At least the girl's don't seem too interested in Legos, so perhaps I'll get a respite from their mess eventually.

By the way, besides a lot of Legos that have been given directly to The Boy over the past year or two, we have what The Boy refers to as "heirloom Legos" or "really old Legos from Daddy's childhood." And my husband was equally, if not more, obessessed with Legos. And we got all my little brother's Legos. We're infested with the things.