Teeny, Tiny, Itsy, Bitsy Torture Devices

Legoes.

Need I say more?

The Evil Genius decided that he wanted to build according to the directions today, rather than use his imagination. What that translates to is: Mommy gets to dig through elleventy-million Legoes to find the one the size of a sesame seed that goes in the right spot.

Or the one that's exactly like thirty-three others only it has a sticker on it.

Or the little hands that go with the Lego man, because someone is very thorough when he takes the Legoes apart, and they have to match and they can't be grey because this particular Lego man has on a white space-suit, and so his hands have to be white, too, but all you can find in the bottom of the Lego bin are grey ones. We won't even discuss the visor for his helmet. The orange one. One orange visor in the bottom of the bin, when all the rest of the visors are grey. Nope, not going to talk about it.

That howling you hear? Coupled with hysterical laughter? Yeah, that would be me.

Sigh.

Have you ever tried to type cross-eyed from Lego-rummaging? Oh, well...he's trying to help, anyway.

You know how helpful a five-year-old can be.

It's going to be a long day.