The Erector Set

The boy had an erector set he loved very much. It was so shiny, so strong, he played with it every day, even when he was supposed to be doing other things. He built the strongest platform he could and then started upward: towers, pillars, cranes, skylights and winches. The erector set platform was limited but reliable. You could pile hopes, dreams, diatribes, recipes and masses of drivel onto it and it would not crumble. Not everyone could play there, however. Admittance was more or less limited to the smarty pants, those who understood erector sets, who knew which cables to tow, levers to pull and buttons to push. The erector set playmates talked a lot but didn't exactly share. They played publicly with themselves and others for the people who adored them.

Then the boy got a Lego set for his birthday. Full of color, all of the pieces clicked together in one way or another. The shapes weren't always pretty and the lego platform was a little unsteady, but the playmates who played with the Lego felt connected by it. For the first time they understood what this game was all about. Blue touched red touched yellow touched green touched orange and ad infinitum. Odd structures were built; smaller groups were formed to explore new ideas and directions. People who didn't technically know what they were doing came and played anyway. Unsteady, unwieldy but pretty and understandable, the Lego toy was familiar, fun and welcoming.

But it was not built to last.

The boy and his friends had so much to do these days, they barely had time for toys at all, much less two (three!) completely different sets of them. The toys required resources: time, special skill sets and yes, even money to maintain. They did not have enough of any of those things and worse, they were being told by everyone that what they really needed to do was to stop playing and focus.

How to pick between toys? It wasn't very hard since the erector set play group was a lot bigger than the Lego play group - and they had money. But what if they could merge the toys together and create one really great, amazing, toy? Simply take the best of both and make everyone happy. Using his best glue gun, a mass of rubber bands and some shiny paper clips the boy and his friends tried to force the two toys to play together. Alas, the erector set had no touch points for the Lego pieces, there was simply nothing to hold on to.

In his heart the boy knew the erector set would have to win. It was, after all a superior toy. He was already growing out of his Lego phase and hardly ever played with it. He would never ever tire of his erector set. After a while he gave up the Lego set, understanding that he would have to live without the pretty colors and ease of use. Shiny metal would rule, and while he might look wistfully on his Lego days, he was also a little relieved to put such childish things behind him.

He put the Lego set away, said goodbye to the friends who could not or would not migrate to the erector set play group, and faced the future.