When you think of Sweden, what springs to mind? Lots of blonde people running round healthily (your mind will be in summertime, obviously, if its in winter those same blondes will be frozen solid in near pitch black lightlessness for those 8 months)? Or ABBA??? Volvo? Ikea? Bjorn Borg? Smorgasbord? Herring??

I used to think along those lines, but now, to me, Sweden = Lego.

Which, I admit, is pretty stupid because Lego is Danish. But is there a difference? Like, really? Not from down ‘ere there ain’t. The only things to notably occur in either of those places, according to their tv offerings and popular literature, are grizzly murders. Lots of them. And other than during the World Cup, Sweden=Denmark=Norway.

When I was a kid, I played with Lego. When I had kids, they played with Lego. Now my kids have kids, and they play with Lego. Well, Lila does, Joey plays with Yego. If he still refuses to pronounce an ‘L’ like an ‘L’ by the time he’s 18, I’ll be worried. For now, its sweet. And never sweeter than calling to his sister “YIIIYAAAAAAH!!!”, (think along the lines of Fred Flintstone’s ‘Wilmaaaa!’, but louder).

We used to buy boxes of ‘bricks’, from which we created… stuff. Castles. They were easy. Houses. Easier still. Anything curved had to be made really big so you could fashion those curves from straight bricks. Which is good for Lego, cos you had to buy more. Building walls was good. Towers. Boxes… you get the drift.

But now, you buy a Lego kit and it forms a fully articulated Tyrannosaurus Rex with swishing tale and bad breath, which actually (for a £4.99 upgrade kit) gives birth to live young. It is THAT fucking brilliant. The Lego dogs bark (and shit too, for £4.99 extra), the cars work, doors open, windows hinge. Its all too clever and brilliant to be true. And best of all, Lila can build absolutely anything Lego, because the instructions are so simple, clear and clever. Maybe that’s the Danish bit. Which they need to pass across the mermaid to their mates at Ikea.

On Thursday, Joey’s birthday, ‘we’ made a fire station. With a fire engine, fire helicopter and everything you could imagine a child of 4 could want. Other than, in Joey’s case, the box of matches and a REAL axe. And it all ‘works’, using clips and ball and socket joints and little fake lights and roller-blinds, ffs. But even better than the previous ‘best of all’, you can’t break any of the pieces. No matter how small, how seemingly fragile, how delicate, they’ll outlive all of us by 25,000,000 years. Which is perhaps the only issue you could take with so much plastic, but… but… OMG, so much pleasure and even Joey can’t break it.

Have a yoveryey day

A xxxx