So, a beach urchin I know claims that she’s going to have a dinosaur birthday this month. She will have a birthday and it may be a dinosaur birthday but it won’t be her first dinosaur birthday because, 22 years ago, I threw a dino birthday for her. I figured it’d be a hands-down hit. After all, dinosaurs were part of her routine in those days. Every afternoon, I would pack up the little rapscallion into her car seat and we would drive to the EPA and wait in the parking lot for the changing of the guard. The changing of the guard where I would go in to work and the GG would come out of work and drive the little squirt home. They had a routine when they got home. I don’t remember it all but they had to listen to the cuckoo clock. The one that I finally closed down after a little bout of insomnia. And then they would play with the train in the basement. It was an N-gauge railroad. Little tiny train cars. The little lizard would stand on a stool and very carefully and patiently place little plastic dinosaurs like the one in my hand (and trucks and airplanes and a goofy cat face that apparently rode around on a flatcar) onto moving train cars as they went by. And lift them off again. Etc. This was a baby who was well under two years old.

When birthday number two came along, I was well prepared or so I thought. The Commander and Grandroobly were here visiting. I had the dinner all planned. And the cake. Garlands and Japanese lanterns festooned the whole landfill. And there were about a brazillion presents, all wrapped up. Yeah, I know. What the heck was I thinking, buying all that crap? Anyway. This kid was *fascinated* with dinosaurs. By that time, we had books and that Wee Sing tape and we read and sang about dinosaurs all the time. And there was the dino-train in the basement. I bought some beautiful plastic dinosaurs. There were six of them. They were, oh I dunno, about 8-10″ tall. I was really proud of myself. I was so cool. She would love these things. Or not. She started to open my lumpily-wrapped dinosaur package. And then. Tyrannosaurus Rex’s head peeked out! Yikes! She was terrified! She started wrapping that package right back up! Quick! Get Tyro outta here! And then, she was afraid to open anything else!!! Now what do I do? I did a lot of really fast talking about how there were *no* more dinosaurs in any of those other packages. Wouldn’t you know, the very next thing she opened was a dinosaur puzzle! Sigh.

I won’t be at the little dinosaur’s birthday this year. I am not gonna make it out to Cali right now. I’m trying to get into a carryover situation with vacation time for next year and I just may manage that. And then we’ll see. It’s okay, I’m sure she’d rather spend her birthday with friends anyway! I did when I was that age. So, kiddo, you are maybe lucky that I can’t find those old dinos anywhere. They may be here somewhere. Or I may have given them away. I don’t remember. They were probably made in China anyway and are filled with lead. Who knows. But I was definitely wanting to send those to you, all wrapped up in a big lumpy, scary package.

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