Have you guys seen this?
It’s a t-rex! Taking out the trash! And it's awesome.
Ok!Ok! It’s not a really real t-rex. It's actually a person dressed in a t-rex costume. Or, so Katie and Ellie insisted each time I queued up yet another video for them to watch. Yes. Before. Each. And. Every. Video.
Because I’m an optimist.
And, maybe, juuuust
MAYBE THIS NEXT VIDEO WILL HAVE A REAL T-REX IN IT, GUYS! WE SHOULD CHECK! BECAUSE OF SCIENCE!
Because I’m an optimist.
And, maybe, juuuust
MAYBE THIS NEXT VIDEO WILL HAVE A REAL T-REX IN IT, GUYS! WE SHOULD CHECK! BECAUSE OF SCIENCE!
Dude, did you, seriously, just add the word "fiction" to the end of my sentence? *tsk* Rude!
Look people, reading one Michael Crichton book doesn't make you an expert on dinosaurs. It...also...doesn't make me one either. A-pparently. Or so Jon likes to point out, like, aaaaa lot. Which is fiiiiine. Because, really, I've just started calling him Reginald Von Hoobie-Doobie. And then pretending to turn around and high five Edwina. Which works because it means Mo Willems and I totally both win!
But, now, in all seriousnessables, the election this month has thrown quite a few people for a loop. And I get it, I do. I'm all loopy right there with you. And, yes, the next four years are going to be...how do I put this politely...well...interesting*. But, guys, come on. If T-rexes can miraculously manage to rise from extinction (Quiet, Reginald.) and figure out how to (No one is listening, Von Hoobie-Doobie!) successfully shop at the grocery store:
or throw their tails over their shoulders and courageously go out and ride that bike anyway:
then so can we.
With elegance, and passion, aplomb, and, yes, grace.
Even if we don't make the cut for the Cincinnati Ballet.
*I mean, really, how bad can the next four years be? We all put our pants on one leg at a time, right?
Well, crap-a-zoidal.
Look people, reading one Michael Crichton book doesn't make you an expert on dinosaurs. It...also...doesn't make me one either. A-pparently. Or so Jon likes to point out, like, aaaaa lot. Which is fiiiiine. Because, really, I've just started calling him Reginald Von Hoobie-Doobie. And then pretending to turn around and high five Edwina. Which works because it means Mo Willems and I totally both win!
But, now, in all seriousnessables, the election this month has thrown quite a few people for a loop. And I get it, I do. I'm all loopy right there with you. And, yes, the next four years are going to be...how do I put this politely...well...interesting*. But, guys, come on. If T-rexes can miraculously manage to rise from extinction (Quiet, Reginald.) and figure out how to (No one is listening, Von Hoobie-Doobie!) successfully shop at the grocery store:
or throw their tails over their shoulders and courageously go out and ride that bike anyway:
then so can we.
With elegance, and passion, aplomb, and, yes, grace.
Even if we don't make the cut for the Cincinnati Ballet.
*I mean, really, how bad can the next four years be? We all put our pants on one leg at a time, right?
Well, crap-a-zoidal.
