The other day I got a rare privilege: a day off on a weekend with my boys. All 3 of them.

There was an adventure planned and I was looking forward to enjoying it with them.

My inlaws were meeting us Sydney. Hubby and Father In law (FIL) were going to Eastern Creek Raceway, for a Motorbike Racing Festival of Speed.

And Mother in law (MIL) was taking the boys to Walking with Dinosaurs at Allphones Arena. By train! For us country bumpkins, it was a great adventure. I got to join the boys and we were all looking forward to seeing the show – after all who doesn’t like dinosaurs?

Master 8 is all science, and quickly figured out how there were dinosaurs in an arena.

SPOILER ALERT!!
He spotted the robotics and drive mechanisms and quickly sorted it all out in his head, sought quick confirmation from me, and then settled down to enjoy the show.

Master 6 – well, he is still right into magic. He has the stuffed animal collection and actively interacts with his toys, fantasy style. He was very easily reassured that they are real.
I know! Alright, I know. But they only believe in magic for such a short time, and truly – I do not see the harm in him believing in these dinosaurs. Anyway, both boys and I were engrossed in the show – it was brilliant.

Afterwards I lined up to get them a souvenir each. Master 8 wanted a shirt with a T-Rex on it. Easy as.

We are lined up with half the population of a suburb of Sydney, waiting to get souvenirs of the show.
Master 6 wanted a stuffed dinosaur to add to his menagerie – of course. So we line up and we start chatting about which one he wants. Surprisingly he didn’t want the T-Rex. He said that although the T-Rex was awesome, he was worried that particular dinosaur would upset his other animals.

The Brachiosaur was not appealing either – no substantial reason was offered.

So that left the Triceratops. “You know, mum, the one with the horns?”

“Sounds great, honey. Do you think your other animals will like him?”

“Sure they will mummy, they will get used to him.”

“Great. So, what do you think his name should be?”

I absently check my wallet and phone, thinking of whether or not I should by me and MIL a coffee, because lord knows it was too expensive to eat lunch there.
Master 6 ponders this all important question. Then he says in an outdoor voice volume:
“I know mum, I’ll call him Horny.”

Bless him, but he had no idea why all the adults within earshot cracked up. And the dinosaur is forever more named Horny.

Welcome to the family!

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