One Morning in Lego Land

I spent a recent Saturday morning assisting my daughter-in-law's father Andy on a perilous mission - escorting our two young grandsons to the Lego KidsFest at the Indianapolis Convention Center. It was going to be a special day of grandfather/grandson bonding.

Andy and his wife Carol originally planned to take the boys themselves, but when Carol was unexpectedly delayed out of town, Andy asked me to step in and help him. Despite my misgivings, I couldn't bear the thought of leaving a fellow grandfather alone with Zeke and Malachi in such a mob scene. And it could be fun, spending some quality time with the boys and a few thousand other young children frolicking amongst the Legos. What could go wrong?

My son and daughter were quite amused at the thought of me embarking on this expedition.

"Dad is going to the Lego fest?" my daughter Stephanie asked her mother. "I can't quite picture that."

My son Steve laughed at me out loud. "Spending the morning with a few thousand kiddies at the convention center? Have fun, dad."

 
I must confess that my children know me too well. They grew up with me (my condolences, kids) and they have experienced my proclivity to irritation when I am surrounded by unruly children and crowded, noisy, chaotic atmospheres. They still tease me about our family's one and only trip to Chuck E. Cheese back in 1988.
 
But I sucked it up and decided I was going to get through this and keep my cool. I would behave like grandfather of the year and everything would be fine. And actually, it wasn't bad for a while.

The convention center was crowded and noisy. There were a lot of whiny children. But the event was pretty well organized. The waiting in lines was minimal. There were a lot of neat Lego displays, and plenty of different activities. Zeke and Malachi were having a blast. The first thing they did was jump into the mountain of Legos and start piecing together odd creations.

Andy and I sat for a while and watched the boys. Soon four-year-old Malachi was getting bored at Lego mountain and needed a potty break. So I took him over to the bathroom, conveniently located next to the snack bar. Of course we needed a big soft pretzel and a Coke while we were there. Once we were fortified, we returned to the mountain of Legos.

That's when I made my big mistake. I blinked.

Malachi was standing at the west end of the mountain. We saw his brother Zeke at the east end of the mountain. Malachi waded into the pile of Legos, climbing his way across to see Zeke. I told him I would meet him on the other side, and I walked around the perimeter, not wanting to risk stepping on some goofy little tyke half-buried in Legos.

When I got to the other side, I did not see Malachi.

"Zeke, where is your brother?"

"I don't know," he casually shrugged.

Instantly my blood pressure shot up 20 points. An adult's worst nightmare was upon me. I had lost a child in a very crowded room of total strangers. It was 1988 all over again!

I panicked. I prayed. I wandered around looking, looking, looking. It's funny, when you get a hundred young kids playing in a pile of Legos, the tops of their heads all start to look the same. I was getting worried. And irritated. Why did I get myself into this situation? How am I going to find this child?
 
Then I heard this announcement over the PA system: "Will Dave Smith please come to the yellow Lost Parent's Tent? Dave Smith to the Lost Parent's Tent, please."

Breathing a giant sigh of relief, I hurried over to the Lost Parent's Tent, and there was my little grandson, happily playing with some Legos and flirting with the two college girls who were working there. As I approached, Malachi spotted me and his face lit up.

"Malachi!" I said, "I couldn't find you anywhere! I was getting worried."

He looked at me, and in total innocent sincerity asked, "Grandpa, where did you go?"

Later that day all four of us were playing in the Lego raceway area. The kids there were making strange little cars and then racing them down four-lane ramps. Once again Malachi went missing. Grandpa Andy volunteered to look for him in the crowd. 

I decided to look for him in the nearby men's room, since I needed to visit there anyway. It's hard to focus on a search and rescue mission when your bladder is about to burst.

As I stood at the urinal, minding my own business, I again heard a familiar voice calling over the PA system, "Will Dave Smith please come to the yellow Lost Parent's Tent? Dave Smith to the Lost Parent's Tent, please."

Even though he couldn't find us, or manage to stay in one area to play, Malachi had a real knack for finding his way over to that Lost Parent's Tent. I'm just guessing, but it may have had something to do with the cute young college girls who were working there.

Once again I caught up with my little wandering grandson. He was laughing this time. "Grandpa, I lost you again!"

Someday I will laugh about this, too, but it may take a while. If I recover by then, I might even volunteer to go again to next year's Lego KidsFest. But in the meantime, I will continue with my meetings at the local chapter of Parent's Anonymous.

I am still working through my trauma from Chuck E. Cheese in 1988.