Under Siege

I have been losing ground in the house for several years. The toys have been spreading from the family room out like a plastic Sahara, advancing its primary colors into the kitchen, living room and, gasp, master bedroom. I’ve long faulted myself for lack of diligence. I had a one-toy rule for a long time. I’m still wondering what happen to it. Like my good flashlight or the key to the side door, I feel it here, around me, but of no use. And so the toys perpetuate their campaign, but I no longer blame only myself.

Yesterday, my eight-year-old Max built a Lego ambassador and sent him to the Skylanders. I overheard the meeting. They vowed an alliance, whereby they would work together to overthrow the house and subjugate (my word) the humans. Our time had passed. We could still pay for the food, heat and water; we could no longer rule.

I’m not really afraid of Lego and the Skylanders. Sure, they freakin’ sting when you step on them, but I can take ‘em. They know this, though. The Legos assembled another ambassador and sent him upstairs, to the girl’s room.

The Skylanders and Lego want to enlist the American Girls into their cause. (Nina, the girl of said room, thought this was hilarious.) There’s nine of those charming witches. They are indestructible, in that they’re too pretty and too valuable to injure.

The vacation week has just begun.

If this pact holds all is lost.

If this pact holds all is lost.