Them Tillman Boys (Extended Edition)

The other day, I was reading in the living room, taking a break while Ian played with Max in the Max-room. (I can't really call it Max's bedroom, since his bed is in our room, and it isn't really organized enough to be called a playroom or a nursery yet, so it's the Max-room.) I was hearing some clattering noises, but not very much talking, which is rare for both father and son, but I was enjoying my break too much to wonder about it extensively. Suddenly, from the back of the house, I heard Ian call, "Chelsa? Hey, Chels!" His voice had a strange note to it that worried me a little. Was Max hurt? Had Ian discovered a gross bug somewhere in our house? (They are doing some construction across the street, and so we occasionally receive visits from disgruntled creatures that lived in what used to be a field and will soon be a park.) When I asked what was up, Ian said, "I'm just so happy right now!" This was intriguing (and alarming -- many of the things that make Ian happy involve bothering me slightly), and I went to the Max-room to see the source of Ian's delight. I beheld Ian and Max, both buried up to the armpits in boxes of Ian's lego collection. Ian has been waiting for most of his life for someone who can sit and play legos with him with the necessary absorption and passion. Apparently, that someone has arrived, and is now old enough to hear the siren song of the lego bricks. Yesterday, Grandpa Phil was invited to share in the Tillman Male Initiation ceremony. It has been hard to get Max to play with anything else, and I don't see much of him or Ian anymore unless I want to build giant robots or tiny space ships. Maybe Speck will play with me after she comes out.