Dino Mom

Sometimes I feel like a dino-mom.

Ancient and over the hill. Big and scaly. Roaring and cranky, too.

But, then my little dino-child comes around with a curiosity for all things dino.


“Mommy, what’s this?”

“Who’s that?”

“Why? Why, Mommy, why?”

She skips and dances, humming a tune. She throws her arms around me and professes her love for my dino-mom self.

Then, I smile and think that maybe being a dino-mom isn’t too bad.

Maybe a dino-mom is the best kinda mom to be.

I then go about my day less grouchy, less roary and somehow less ancient.

Later on, I sit down to share a cup of coffee with the T-Rex-mom up the street.

‘Cuz, you know, there’s always a bigger and badder dino on the block.

Kinda made me look like a harmless newt.