The Nigerian LEGO Scam

In this morning's email was a stern-sounding ALL CAPS message from "Special Agent John Edward" of the FBI, informing me that the agency had confiscated two boxes at JFK containing "a large sum of money...from federal government of Nigeria" addressed to me. Agent Edward informed me that I needed to contact him (at a non-FBI email address) "or you will be prosecuted in the court of law for money laundering."

Oh darn. Busted again.

I'm sure you've seen these emails, too. Sometimes it's a threat of jail; other times, it's an enticing offer of millions of dollars in exchange for a couple of thousand dollars in "processing" fees. And, like me, you dump them into the spam file without thinking twice. Unfortunately, enough folks believe them and send these Nigerian scammers enough money to keep them in business.

When I saw this latest attempt to separate me from the little money I have, I started wondering what kind of people are so gullible - or, perhaps, desperate - that they're willing to believe any promise of a prize, no matter who offers it or how unlikely the chance that it's true.

Then my son came home the next day and told me that one of his classmates had asked him for a piece of his orange at lunchtime. He gave it to her, but added, "You owe me a Hogwarts LEGO set."

She said no problem. She'd buy one right away and give it to him.

And he believed her.

The next day, she told him she had the Hogwarts set. But of course she couldn't bring it to school, so she was going to have it shipped to our apartment.

And he believed her.

It's been three days since that little exchange. No LEGO set, Hogwarts or otherwise, has shown up at our doorstep.

But he still believes it will, soon.

No amount of discussion or appeal to his senses will change his mind. He is firmly convinced that since his friend promised him the toy, she's sure to deliver. Never mind that it's unlikely she has that kind of money to spend. Or that it's unlikely she has the skills to wrap a box, address it to us and get it to the post office. Or that this friend's mother would be VERY unlikely to approve of a transaction like this.

He still believes.

Nor will he consider the argument that friends should do nice things for each other - like, say, sharing a bit of fruit - without expecting anything in return. To his mind, this casual lunchroom banter constitutes an ironclad contract.

And he believes with all his heart that the agreement will be honored.

Just like the poor souls who send hundreds of their hard-earned money to foreign post office boxes and sit waiting for days for the $4 million money order they just know is coming their way from the widow of a wealthy Nigerian businessman they've never met, who just happened to choose them as a worthy recipient.

I don't know when reality will finally hit for my son, but it's sure to hit hard. And a little of his innocence and trusting nature will be lost forever as he realizes that people can't always be counted on to keep their word.

The only difference between my child and the adult scam victims is that his loss is minimal - a couple of slices of navel orange. If this deal had actually gone through, he would have come out much better off than his friend.

On second thought, maybe there's a silver lining to all this. It looks like my kid's got the making of a good banker.

Stuff I Never Thought I'd Be Doing Today

-Attending a slightly belated birthday party thrown in my honor by an assortment of LEGO Star Wars figures and my old Dawn dolls.

- Watching said toys boogie to the "Episode II" soundtrack. (Orange fringed minidresses go surprisingly well with John Williams.)

- Reading the dress-code demands made of the guests at the Kardashian wedding.

- Wondering if any of the invitees will have the courage and self-respect to say, "I can't wear any color but black or white? Screw it - I'm showing up in hot pink and having a cameraman ready to videotape me getting booted out."

- Seeing my byline twice in a health newsletter.

- Getting a cryptic reply email and wondering if it's actually a nicely-dressed rejection.

- Engaging in an hour-long lightsaber duel against the resident Jedi Master.

- Being informed that I possess mad lightsaber skills.

- Asking my children to clean their rooms and hearing nothing but "Not now" - then witnessing their 180 when offered the chance to play with the neighborhood kids.

- Giving the Starving Ethiopian Children speech in response to various complaints that dinner contained such horrible ingredients as rice and peas. I have officially become THAT Mother. Heaven help us.

- Hearing my son say, "I have a bad feeling that my life is going to explode" and wondering when he suddenly turned 50.

- Spending all day with my kids, then oddly missing them during the brief time I was away from them tonight._

Momsperiment Commandments on a Friday Afternoon

1. Thou shalt continue with thy vow to get thine act together, in hopes that thy offspring mayest see thine shining example and follow it like unto Patrick following SpongeBob.

2. In attempt to do same, thou shalt continue to be merciless in thine attempt to organize office space. If thou wouldst not want to pack it if thou had to pack up thy worldly goods tomorrow, it's outta here.

3. Thou shalt not dawdle in doing so, hard as it may be to motivate thyself. If necessary, thou shalt give thyself the old Mama Berenstain Bear "You'll feel so much better when it's done" lecture.

4. Thou shalt not, however, wear a polka-dot duster cap.

5. If thou shouldst delay, thou shalt keep this memory firmly in mind next time thou seest thine children yanking out all their Legos or setting up a tea party even as the clutter gathers 'round them. 

6. When necessary and convenient, thou shalt allot enough time in the day for adequate child-energy-burning. Thou shalt exercise patience and realize that in the eyes of the young, a day of swimming, playing games and painting murals in camp is considered merely a "good start." It doth not preclude 90 more minutes of scooter-riding and lightsaber-battling with the kids down the block, even as their dinner groweth ever colder.

7. Thou shalt not throw Mom Tantrums, even if thy children have just tossed a screaming and kicking fit of their own. Thou art the grownup, and as such must appear to be more in control than thou actually art. (Besides, adult tantrums don't even feel as satisfying afterward as childhood ones. Dang.)

8. Thou shalt not feel embarrassed about hanging on to old makeup sets. Thou never knowest when the visages of thy young may need to be covered in green eyeshadow for a space-alien party. (Purple eyeliner workest great for making extra eyeballs, too.)

9. Thou shalt remember the unearthed press release that emerged like a jewel under the piles of clutter and be grateful for clean desks, green eyeshadow, scooter rides and healthy children. (Thou need not, however, be grateful for polka-dot duster caps.)

10. Thou shalt not write another blog in pseudo-biblical language.