If you walk into my son Aaron’s room you will be confronted by the full array of Star Wars clone armies pointing at your feet. The ships are lined up against the wall and their enemies are facing them with all the weaponry that George Lucas could think of.

And each and every piece is Lego, painstakingly put together following the precise directions that can drag on for 20 pages or so.

Directions for Lego? If you are wondering what I am talking about then you have not been in contact with any boy older than 5 in a long time. Lego has changed, it’s not just a bucket of bricks that you fashion into guns and towers anymore, it is all about exact instructions and Hollywood replicas.

Every parent and grandparent who is currently scouring the shelves of the toy store looking for the limited edition Venator-class Republic Attack Cruiser™Item #: 8039 has asked themselves: what happened to the Lego I remember?

You got to feel bad for my sister right now. She has two kids sick at home and a husband on bedrest with a bad back. And she lives with my mother while her house is being renovated. She needs sympathy. And guess what is the worst part of that trilogy?

I have a potty mouth. Everyone knows it, except my kids. Every time my husband drops the F-bomb (usually at another driver but sometimes at the raccoons digging up the grass) he tells the kids that I am much worse than him. And I agree.

And that, I tell my kids is the key to swearing. Knowing when to use it.