“Frankie, it’s story time.  Let’s see what happens to Harry, Hermione, and Ron!”

“My Ninjago wants to come too!”

A Lego minifigure with a helmet pops up next to the six-year-old’s shoulder.  In a falsetto, it says, “Yeah!  I want to hear the story too!”

“Uh, okay you two.  Let’s go.”

We settle down with the book.  As I’m turning to the dog-eared page, I hear, “Ah!  You got me.  Hiyah!  No. No. Ugh! Kapow!”

My monkey is holding the Lego figure.  He bops himself on the nose with it and flops violently on his side.  “Argh!”  He struggles to sit back up.  The little piece of plastic then jabs into his stomach.  “Oof!”  He’s thrown into the corner.  He jumps up and body slams the tiny toy.  “I gotcha now!”  But no, he doesn’t.  He’s repelled back, “Hiyah!”  The one-inch long lego pinched between two fingers delivers a vicious uppercut.

“Frankie?”

He smashes the toy against a pillow before answering, “What?”

Don’t laugh.  Don’t laugh.  Don’t laugh.  “Are you done battling now?”

“I think so.”

“Okay.  Let’s read the story.”