No kids? Forget Legoland

Did you know you can’t get into Legoland unless you’re accompanied by a child? It’s true for all the Lego parks. This hit the news in July when a 63-year-old Lego fan was turned away from the park near Toronto, Canada because he didn’t bring a child. Actually he did bring his daughter, but she was 30, so it didn’t count.
The account I read at the The NotMom blog went on to say the man was a Lego fanatic with 72 different sets of the interlocking toys, about 50,000 pieces. You’d think the park would welcome guys like him. But no.
The Legoland website states, “Adults must be accompanied by a child to visit the attraction.” Once a month, there is an “Adult Night,” but the rest of the time it’s no kids, no admittance.
Exploring further, I discovered many children’s museums have the same policy. The Building for Kids, a children’s museum in Appleton, Wisconsin prohibits childless adults “for everyone’s safety.” Kidzworld indoor play center, which bills itself the “best place on the planet,” bars grownups unless they bring someone under age 18.
These policies seem to come from a combination of trying to keep the focus on children and keeping out twisted adults who might harm and/or kidnap them. Does that mean grownups without kids can’t be trusted?
It doesn’t seem fair. I’d like to play with Legos and walk through a world of Lego creations. I like playing games and learning and building things. Just because I’m old enough for AARP doesn’t mean the kid in me is gone.
It’s like when we were little and my brother got all the cool toys because he was a boy. Legos hadn’t been invented yet, but we had Tinker toys, Lincoln Logs and these snap-together red rubber bricks that were probably precursors to Legos. I didn’t get to play with them much; I was supposed to stick to my dolls.
We didn’t have Legoland or children’s museums when I was a kid, and my parents wouldn’t have taken us there anyway—although we did go to Disneyland once. But now as a grownup, I find out I can’t get in unless I bring a child? That’s crazy. Of course, I have to ask myself whether I want to be surrounded by hundreds of kids, but that’s another issue.
Moms have access to all the toys. I’m not a child molester. I just want to play, too.
Have you encountered situations where you couldn’t join in because you didn’t have a child? We’d love to hear about it.

A lego in the dirt

I found a red Lego toy piece in the yard yesterday. It’s a small plastic rectangle, its holes crusted with dirt. Where did it come from? My life with Fred has never included Legos, although I have played with them in doctors’ waiting rooms and other people’s houses. I have always liked toys with which you could build things. But how did a Lego get here? We haven’t even had any young children visit us in the 11 years Fred and I have owned this house. Our house is surrounded by trees, no other house close enough for toys to wander our way.

The only answer is that the dogs dug up a piece of history from the family that lived here before, the Fends. They had four children, two sons and two daughters. Big pictures of them hung on the living room walls. Their oldest daughter was living on her own. The younger daughter, high school age, had cerebral palsy. We met her crawling from her bedroom into the hallway the day we took our second look at the house.

The room I use as my office belonged to the boys, who slept in bunk beds and left color crayon marks on the walls. While the older boy worked at his computer, the younger boy showed me his craft projects sitting on the windowsill. Now the walls have been repainted, the windows replaced, and the closet turned into a file room. My desk, shelves and writing paraphernalia fill the room where the boys used to sleep.

The Fends fell on hard times and had to leave the house that was probably the only home their children had known. Now it is a home where all signs of children have been erased. Souvenirs from our travels and our collections of ruby glass and shot glasses decorate the living room and den. It is definitely not a childproof house. But why bother? Children don’t come here.

I don’t want to throw the Lego piece away. It’s as if I have found one piece, and now I need to find the puzzle to which it belongs. I think that’s how it always is with childless women. Something is missing. We’ve got one lost Lego and we don’t know what to do with it.