Stick with it...

My son James is obsessed with tape. In the last two weeks he has decimated a roll of packing tape, masking tape, painter's tape, and two rolls of Scotch tape. Most of that was employed in the course of a single afternoon in the construction of this weapon of mass destruction:





The primary components are the box from a grill part, the box from a book, and three toilet paper rolls he scavenged from assorted bathrooms in our house. This tank is also the home base for various Lego scout vehicles who are more of the surgical strike school of weaponry; they are sent in to do precision jobs.

This will perhaps explain why my son is delirious with joy that he's getting cardboard for his birthday. We're going to the park up the street and he's inviting his friends and we're turning them loose with cardboard, duct tape and plastic ties (they make good hinges) to construct the fort or spaceship or superaccelerated laser moon gun of their dreams. On the first day of school, he informed me that he already invited a couple of kids to his party. (It's still a month away). He couldn't remember their names but he's pretty sure they're coming. This party will, per his request, be augmented with cheese pizza and a Hot Wheels cake.

Cardboard. Tape. Pizza.

I want to be nine again.

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