Daddy, I Like The Dinosaurs That Don’t Have Gas

3 years, 5 months.

Dear Jack,

I know it’s easy to forget this fact about your dad, but I do actually have a full-time job in HR at a trucking company called Paschall Truck Lines. It just so happens that my company was responsible for shipping the dinosaurs for the DinoTrek exhibits currently being featured in zoos across America.

Last Saturday, Mommy and I took you to go check them out in action at the Nashville Zoo just a few miles down the road from our house.

Though you knew up front they weren’t real dinosaurs, you still treated them with reverence.

You did have the nerve to pet the dinosaurs with me, despite the fact you saw the way they moved their giant mouths and you heard the way they roared at us.

A couple of the dinosaurs even spit water out of their mouths at us. (You spit back at them.)

Some of the “scarier” dinosaurs had machines behind them that caused fog to appear as we approached them.

After we finished our dinosaur tour, you expressed to me, “Daddy, I like the dinosaurs that don’t have gas.”

We had so much fun seeing the dinosaurs, you and I actually went back the next day to visit them again.

Not to mention, you’ve been telling your teachers and friends at school about them all week.

Yesterday on the way home from school, you told me, “Daddy, can we dig up some dinosaur bones? Maybe if can find some, we can turn them into real dinosaurs again.”

Until there’s a real Jurassic Park, our best shot of seeing resurrected dinosaurs is the DinoTrek exhibit at the zoo.

Sorry, Son.

I would love to ride a stegosaurus with you, if I could. Maybe in Heaven, who knows?

And if they have dinosaurs up there, I bet they don’t “have gas.”

 

Love,

Daddy

 

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