The Dinosaur is Loose, Part II

Let's try this again. In what is par for the course today the first post that I had started somehow got deleted.

I was saying how sometimes I feel like such a bad mommy. Jacob got a game for his Leapster called "Digging for Dinosaurs." Tonight after dinner he decided that he was going to dig for dinosaurs in our living room. All of this was music to my ears; I could finally sit down for a moment and watch the news, because unless you're living in the dinosaur era, you know there was a horrible earthquake in Haiti and I wanted to see what was going on.

D has been gone since Tuesday and this was my third night flying solo with the kids. Dinner, entertainment of some sort, baths and/or shower, teeth brushing, and on and on....all of these tasks get added to my already long list of things to do. Tonight dinner was especially challenging. For some reason J spilled his milk, dropped his sauce-smothered penne on the floor, and spilled his milk again all within the span of five minutes. I'm done!

Just as I sat down to relax for a minute, guess what? J found a dinosaur egg and like any good anthropologist would be, he was very excited about showing off his wares. By sheer coincidence, it was his favorite kind. "Guess what kind it is, Mema?" For the life of me I couldn't remember the particular species that he fancies so much so I told him to just tell me. It was a Tyrannosaurus Rex. Of course it was. How could I forget?

And that's where I stopped....I stopped right there and took M to bed. At the same time, D came walking through the door and we took a few minutes to talk about his trip and other matters of housekeeping. The talk soon turned to -- what else -- dinosaurs.

And all of a sudden the story changes. This is going from bad to worse and my position on the My-Mommy-is-the-Greatest Meter just dropped even more. Apparently I got a couple of the details wrong:

First, there was no digging for dinosaurs. He went to the Dinosaur Museum. And second, he found a baby stuffed animal of a Tyrannosaurus Rex. Don't ask me where the eggs came from.

He is completely oblivious to all of these developments and it will stay that way until he's old enough to understand that his constant rantings about dinosaurs, insects, cats, bunnies or whatever the flavor of the day may be, are enough to drive someone to drink.

He's such a sweet little boy. The mistake-ridden story was going to continue by saying that at one point he came to say something to me and I stopped him dead in his tracks and told him not now. He went back to what we now know was the museum and continued exploring. I felt bad, so I called him back, told him to ask his question, and all he had to say was that in addition to the baby T-Rex he got for himself, he found a T-Rex for Daddy as well. "Because that's Daddy's favorite dinosaur too." Then he said, "And guess what? I got you one." With his hand hidden behind his back he told me that he got me my favorite: A Triceratop. We had this conversation one day and I, myself, had almost forgotten what my favorite was, but he didn't.

I could be the dinosaur in this story. I'm too old for kids this age. They're energetic, curious, exhausting. I'm selfish, impatient....

...and a little insecure. I make mistakes. I'm out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best. ~Marilyn Monroe

And the same goes for them, dinosaurs and all.