Back in my cub scout days, there were some pictures of the Denmark Legoland in Boys Life magazine. It was the most incredible thing I had I ever seen—an amusement park made of out the same plastic bricks I used to create cars and spaceships on my bedroom floor. There were detailed scale models of European cities featuring canals, boats, and windmills. It seemed too good to be true that someone had created a whole world out of my favorite toy. I would have put visiting Legoland on my “bucket list,” but the term had not been created yet.
I never made it to Denmark and my Lego spaceships were decommissioned as they gathered dust in the back of my closet. But eventually, life would bring me to the doorstep of the third Legoland park located in Carlsbad, CA. When we moved to Southern California, we could see Legoland fireworks from our apartment balcony. Legoland California doesn’t have any European cities modeled, but the models of San Francisco, Washington DC, and New Orleans, and more are worth the price of admission, even as an adult. (For the uninitiated, the heart of Legoland is miniature versions of American cities, known as Miniland.) As I walked through Miniland for the first time I was filled with sentimentality—remembering the familiar feel of a 2×4 brick in my hand and thinking maybe if I had the time or more floor space, I could have assembled 2 million bricks into the New York City skyline.
But for two year-old Ryan, Miniland was about the miracle of automation, the continuing education of cause and effect. “Hey dad, I push this button and chickens come out of the farm.” The beauty of Legoland is that it lives at the intersection of adults’ nostalgia and kids’ wonder. So, there we were, father and son, with different takeaways from visiting the miniature Las Vegas.
Since before Chase could walk, we’ve held annual memberships at Legoland and I think it’s fair to say we’ve extracted as much value as possible from them. Ryan & Chase have successfully completed both driving schools. We’ve Brick-or-Treated and celebrated New Year’s Eve at 7pm. And of course, we’ve “put the wet stuff on the hot stuff” with the Fun Town Fire Department. But as we walked around 1 Legoland Drive this past December, it felt like we were “aging out” of our first theme park.
Leogland has been a faithful companion throughout the years. Before the boys were in school, Jenni would take the boys for a couple hours to walk around and burn off some energy. Back when they gave out multiple guest passes every year, Legoland would be a mandatory day trip for Matsumoto house guests. In fact, we got so good at shuttling guests around the park we got “a bit bossy” when tour guiding new people through the park. We were so skilled knowing when to hit which rides at which times to avoid lines that going with us was a little like boot camp. “Stop eating those apple fries! This is the designated time we must go on the Dragon!” Legoland is even where we’ve probably had our biggest “lost child” scare when Ryan slipped out of our zone coverage for a couple minutes in what’s now known as Heartlake City. He was happily turning a fake water pump, big smile is on his face, unbeknownst to his parents’ frantic cries.
Legos are still wildly important to the Matsumoto boys, especially Ryan, but the magic of Legoland now remains largely in the past. We’ve had fun at the water park this summer and enjoyed the new Ninjago ride, but it’s been years since the boys took a picture with a mini-figure character. There’s also been some recent novelty over being able to go on rides without needing an adult (or someone over 55 inches tall).
Every now and then, we’ll say goodbye to pieces of the boys’ childhood that tug on the heartstrings. Jenni will hold up a favorite shirt that everyone’s outgrown and flash me a theatrical sad face. Toys that used to be so beloved can be shuttled off to younger cousins. For example, the Cars characters that used to be routinely lined up in disciplined array for racing or storytelling have left our house for someone else’s floor. And yes, in a case of “life imitating art,” somewhere in a cluttered toy chest at our house lay Woody and Buzz Lightyear.
On our last visit to Legoland, Chase, as he always does, got a return hand stamp. Granted Chase’s hand washing needs work, but that stamp will be gone when he returns next. Who knows, maybe in couple years we will want to staycation at the Lego Castle Hotel and renew our annual passes. I’m sure it’s not a permanent good bye and I’m guessing the boys will build Lego creations with their children someday. Farewell for now Legoland and thanks for the memories!
