When did "Lego" become a verb?

Unlike back in my day when Legos came in a big plastic box of mixed sizes and building was left to our own imaginations, nowadays Legos come packaged as mini scenes from movies and TV shows. On the outside of the boxes now, are colorful fantasy scenes from the latest Disney film, on the inside, miniscule pieces and a thick booklet with detailed instructions to build a Star Wars battleship, Spongebob Crusty Crab Shack or Harry Potter Hogwarts.

Trust me, I know. For five years, my son Miles was obsessed with Legos. Every birthday, Christmas, Easter. Tens of hours upon hours crouching on the floor looking for the tiny red light saver or Jack Sparrow’s hat. Hundreds of deep breaths dedicated to going from step 1-2-3-4-5, and so on. Thousands of tiny plastic pieces caught in my vacuum.

He’d beg at the table, “Mom, can I Lego after dinner?”

When did “Lego” become a verb?

I watched Miles’ pattern. He’d carefully remove the pieces from the box and right away organize them into categories (wheels in one pile, lights in another, etc). He’d smooth out the instructions page and read it through, carefully studying the steps. Then he’d take a sip of juice, or milk, or smoothie, as if to power up for the experience, and step by step methodically building the piece as instructed.

(It always turned out smaller than the picture on the box.)

But this was not where the fun ended…within minutes after Miles finished and admired his construction, he’d take it all apart. He used his hands, his teeth, my help– to quickly deconstruct the object and lay out all the pieces in a messy pile on the rug. Then he’d “go to town” building his own version of a rocket ship, or a tiny town for martians, a flying ambulance. The challenge- use every piece that came in the box for the new invention!

While he did this part, I remember how I could feel him vibrating with energy, the creativity moving through him like a lightening bolt as his imagination soared through our galaxy or back in time. He’d spend hours playing with these one of a kind masterpieces. Even save them on his dresser-top to show them off to his friends.

To Lego: to build, take apart, put back as new creation.

In yoga, we Lego every day: our bodies in the poses, our breath, our beliefs, our relationships, our habits, our responses, our capacity to love, to change, to be true to ourselves…

The individual pieces might stay the same, but when practiced we craft something new…

Maybe it’s time we Lego this world.