Have I posted before about my dino obsessed son? Oh. My. God. I don't know when it'll ever end. In fact, I'm not entirely sure when it started. I'm thinking YEARS ago. We roar and dinosaur stomp and generally make a dinosaur nuisance of ourselves as much as possible. I'm using the "royal we" but I really mean Big D. I would do away with all things dinosaur and settle on a more quiet obsession -- slugs, anyone? I literally asked him to be "softer" the other day after listening to endless lectures on the relative merits of the "meat eaters" -- his favorite is, of course, T Rex. So by "softer," I really meant, "Can't you talk about a gentler subject. Perhaps slugs?" He did not catch this subtle request and simply lowered the deadly roars a bit in volume. This past weekend, we made the five millioneth trip to the zoo where they have dinosaur exhibit this summer. I have to admit, I swell with parental pride when he plays the role of the little tour guide, naming the dinosaurs and whether they are a true "meat eater." For some reason this distinction is important to him and we're vegetarian -- what does that mean? My kid secretly fantasizes about eating the flesh of some critter? But anyway, that isn't really what I intended to write about. No, it's the tale of the lost dinosaur . . .
We had a lovely play date with a coworker and her children. Big D brought his newly favorite (as in, just rediscovered it that morning and now can't be parted from it) dinosaur. Couldn't possibly tell you what kind it is. He could. After a good time, we left for home for naps. And we discovered, gasp of horror, that the dinosaur had been left behind. You would have thought it was his lifeline, keeping him tethered to life itself! The tears, the wailing, the general conviction that unless this dinosaur was retrieved, the earth would cease to spin around the sun and . . . you get the idea. Two whole awful days later, I finally brought it home after an 11 hour day at work. I wake Big D to hand him his long lost pal to be met with a grunt, "ok" and then back to sleep he went. So anticlimactic. Guess I as looking for gushing gratitude, perhaps tears of joy, certainly effusive cuddles and loves would be in order. Alas.
And for that dear boy, I posted the above pic. A mother's revenge. This is my "too smart for his own good" child with his baseball cap in a most interesting pose. He actually held this for me so I could snap a few pics and then said, "My nose hurts." Duh! Gotta love 'em.