Dinosaurs . . .

When I wore a younger man's clothes (true childhood), I had a few topics that fascinated me:

  • Arts and Crafts
  • Construx
  • Playing with the Neighborhood Kids
  • NOT playing sports
  • Reading and Writing
  • Mixing it up with my make-believe friend, Jaygan 
  • NOT exercising 
  • NOT getting in to math or science
Fast forward about 30 years and I'm a parent. I hoped and prayed, secretly, when we found out a little baby was growing in the tummy of another woman that she would bring a daughter in to my life. Why? I'm not horribly manly. I don't get/like/understand/have the ability to teach/share sports. I'm not handy or crafty with plumbing, electricity, hardware, or power tools. I'm not terribly aggressive with the ladies (I do just fine though, thank you very much - I've kissed like four of them in my life and seen a good three of them full-on-nekkid). Finally . . . I didn't want to have to talk cars or science. Sexist? Nope. Statistically sound. But what happened? How am I cursed? A few ways: I can't braid hair, I can't endorse innocent six-year-old's crushes on teen idols, and I can't get in to dinosaurs. 

Jurassic Park? Sure. Land Before Time? Why not. Reading books? Any time. Drawing and coloring them? Heck yeah. But I do not just know the species and the three phases of the Dinosaur era confound me. I can't just pass on my dino-passion. I am as lost, overwhelmed  and naive in the museum as my kid. Candidly: I just - JUST - learned a few months ago that fossils are not BONES . . . they are bones that were mineralized millions of years ago where the minerals replaced the bones themselves. You see bones would have disintegrated a few hundred years in vs. the eternal life of a fossil. I'm a dullard. Truly. 

Here's the REAL reason I can't get in to Dinosaurs though . . . figurines. These lil' muhfuhkahs are always laying around with their spike, hard plastic bodies and their tales that snap off when my large, large body steps on them. They sorta' hurt to the sole of the foot. They seem unfriendly when they are discovered in the sheets and blankets of my bed. I really don't like finding them swimming in my toothpaste. Maybe my issue really is not with our Darwinic forebearers - I'll allow that but I won't be sad when my kiddo's obsession with playing with these creatures goes the way of the . . . well . . . dinosaurs. We'll get back to Monster High dolls and maybe eventually move on to a Science kit or a model rocket. WORST case - I'm only about a month away from "kite season." That is sorta' science, right?