Legos and Wonka

My four-year-old nephew is over this week at my mother's place. What a kid. We ate dinner last night and played with Legos for close to an hour. I helped him build a house and some farm animals that were in the accompanying Lego book. He had a little trouble with the sheep, but made a mean-looking cow. I was inspired by this moment; maybe I'll really be okay having my own child after this little preview. I enjoyed being a kid again, and relished in the fact that I could still remember the thoughts that passed through my brain when I was 4. I remember what was really important, what hurt, and what was scary.

We can't treat kids as if they were grown-ups with a calloused view at the trifles we are faced with. When you're four, there aren't any trifles. Everything's new, and it's a big deal. Hell, even maintaining a certain level of concentration is a feat. It was pretty hard to keep my nephew interested in the whole Lego thing, but we made it. So we sat there, I in my shorts and sweatshirt, legs spread about the floor, and he in his Spider-Man pajamas, doing what I always loved to do. He was amazed as I was at his age at a grown-up making things that looked just as they did in the pictures. I remember that being hard, and I lost interest, too. I miss being a child; maybe I'll get my chance to live it again vicariously through my son or daughter.

After Legos, I went home and watched "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory" and wondered why I enjoyed it so much.