I was in Dreamland (it's just like a Toys R Us) one day last month, and happened upon a 
Lego Advent Calendar.  I thought the kids would get a kick out of it, Brandon in particular.  After all, you never outgrow 
Lego's, do you?  I know I didn't.  Each day, you open a little door and find a new character or object to construct.  There is a picture on the inside of each door that gives you the instructions as to what you are making that day.  It's lots of entertainment.  I get a kick out of seeing what Brandon adds to the scene each day.
 This Lego Land revolves around a city scape.  Each new piece adds to the details of a lovely home.  There is Mom preparing dinner with her huge loaf of French bread,  and Dad arriving home from work with briefcase in hand.  Little Becky Sue is playing a kickin' song on the drums, and Tommy is pretending to fight evil knights with his sword.  There is a roaring fire and lots of toys scattered around.  Oh, the joys of Christmas.  Then, a couple of days ago, things got a little weird.  By weird, I mean very disturbing.  Lego might have scarred my little angels for life.    
Your eyes are not deceiving you.  That's Santa, wearing a speedo, and taking a shower.  In the living room.  They even included a nice brush to scrub his back with.  To say that our house was in an uproar over this development is an understatement.  The kids and I are now seeking therapy.  We might never be able to look at jolly old St. Nick the same way again.  Only in Europe.  Scarred for life, I tell you.  
Scarred for life.