It's not an organizational problem... it's a swoooosh-playing-with-my-lego-thing-oops-a-piece-shattered-off-and-I-can't-find-it problem.

And then later, the lego piece waits for nightfall, and crawls out from the dark nook to the middle of the most inconvenient walkway for its moment to strike.

I first stepped on my own LEGO bricks (usually blue bricks that were part of some space station). Now, I equally proudly step on the bricks owned by my offspring. It's wonderful that some fascination transcends generations.

Thanks to LEGO I learned that the callus on your ankle is layered like an onion.

I had far too many LEGOs as a kid, and left them around my room like a minefield. Did I step on one? Oh, no. I was jumping on my bed and jumped off when told to stop by my parents and unfortunately one ankle landed on the corner of a LEGO building I had made. A structure build like a little plastic brick shithouse, apparently. The corner gouged a nice right angle cleft out of my ankle a couple inches long. Hurt like the dickens!

I wonder how many cubic kilometers of plastic that is

That's quite a few pieces for every man, woman, and child on the planet.