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March 23, 2009

My son loves dinosaurs. He’s nuts about them, really. The scalier, the better. And, boy, does he keep them busy. His dinosaur collection has a full social calendar.

And, he just about came unglued when his preschool began a dinosaur unit. Happy as a clam, he stuffed his backpack with his dinosaur collection, accessories and all.

You can imagine my surprise when, after school, he expressed his displeasure.

“Mommy, they don’t play with dinosaurs the right way at school!”

“What do you mean?”

He was bewildered with the girls at school as they carried on dinosaur tea parties and fashion shows. Blake claimed he tried to chime in offering up a T-Rex and a sword, but apparently his ideas were immediately rejected.

“What’s wrong with them?” She was exasperated.

I started to explain the female, reptilian brain, but thought better of it.

Move over, people. There’s room for a future Paleontologist in the sandbox, too.


Ahem, I mean, pardon me, excuse and I bid you adieu.

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