Are you waking up in the morning to find your kids’ toy dinosaurs have taken over the bathroom? Poured themselves breakfast? Set up a book club in the living room?
It seems your household is temporarily afflicted with Dinovember and that is freakin’ awesome!
Here’s a quick how-to on Dinovember:
Step 1: November. Is it November? Yes.
Step 2: Dinosaurs.
Step 3: After your kids go to bed, release their toy dinosaurs from their pent up state and arrange them in some scene around the house.
Step 3a: Have fun with it.
Step 4: Keep your ear out for when your kids wake up and discover what the dinosaurs did last night.
Step 5: Repeat.
When I heard that a mom and dad in Kansas City started this, I was immediately signed up. Since I was only introduced to Dinovember last week, I got a late start. But let’s waste no more time… Before and after dino pics – here we go!
Day 1: the dinosaurs make their escape. how far will they get? will they reach the stairs? stay tuned…
First morning. The kids don’t cop to what they saw. They jump right in.
‘It’s dinosaur gan! some of them are in gan and some are dead.’
‘And this one is the mefaked.’
Day 2: they spot an alternate mode of transport, and a water source. suddenly travel becomes simpler.
Second morning. I come downstairs first.
They follow. ‘We didn’t do that!!’
We check it out. I address the dinosaurs directly asking how they did that.
S says, ‘But… but… dinosaurs don’t have ears. Firetrucks don’t have ears.’
‘Is that so?’
‘And… toys don’t… move…?!’
We’re getting somewhere…
Day 3: With a roll of paper they found, the dinos make their way up a plateau offering a somewhat edible corn-based food substance. it’s more suitable for the herbivores but the carnivores manage a basic, temporary level of satisfaction.
Third morning. “Now dinosaurs, you going to need to roll it back up, and put it back in the bathroom, and also go back into your jar.”
Third evening. After another day to consider what’s happening, and perhaps being asked by a few of momma’s friends, my son brings it up before bed.
‘Will they come out again?’
‘I don’t know… what do you think?’
“I hid them very deep…’
‘So maybe they won’t be able to get out.’
‘…I think they’ll be able to get out.’
Day 4. The dinosaurs have arrived for tea. the brontosaurus has fallen in love.
Fourth morning. First time he asked me to check what the dinosaurs did today. We came down and saw the open jar, but no dinos. Checked another room and found the giddy party.
‘But where is all the stuff?’
‘You mean… teabags?’
Since he came down first before his sister woke up, we went back upstairs because he wanted to show her. She had just started climbing out of bed and immediately followed when he told her what waited.
‘But close your eyes…’ he instructed.
‘When you get to the bottom of the stairs,’ I responded.
Day 5. A collective feeling of remorse has begun to spread throughout the herd. Tonight, instead of wrecking, they choose to build.
Fifth morning. Note: There is a preexisting condition of Lego possessiveness in our household.
‘This is אסור! I מחליט that.’
‘Why can’t the dinosaurs play too?’
‘I’m going to clean it up.’
A few seconds later, upon sitting down next to it for closer examination…
‘Ok, I know. We can play with the Lego together.’
Day 6: They decide to kick off binational holiday season a week early. Everyone agrees, with pterodactyl and turkey arm-in-arm and a dinocopia present, world peace is truly possible.
Day 7.* The dinosaurs got a head-start in getting their Sabbath morning prayer on. Still compensating for not checking Noah’s voicemail message.
*Sabbath reenactment. I slept in so the kids set it up for me again so I could see it for myself.
Side note: I think it’s really cute that my kid tries to challenge the dinosaurs each night by making it harder for them to get out… usually by burying the jar deeper and deeper, and tonight it seems he closed the whole toy chest…
Day 8: It’s back to work tomorrow, and the dinos know it. They’re ready to click their way through this week’s electronic mails, TPS reports, CRM data and other forms of office jargon.
Me: ‘oh boy, maybe they did my work for me!’
Him: ‘I don’t think so, the screen is black.’
He came down and was all, ‘but I closed the chest!’
After, he said he understood how *she* got up on top of the monitor bec she can fly, but asked how *he*, the dino that can’t fly, got on top of the monitor. I asked how he knew dinosaur gender. ‘Dunno.’
Day 9: The dinosaurs are hungry, and work together to get into the fridge. Ten out of ten herbivores agree this was best for everyone involved.
After a confused search – the dinos’ jar was open but no dinos in sight – he pondered at how funny it would be if they were in the fridge.
‘Hahahaha, yes, maybe,’ I said.
After the initial laughter wore down, he switched to concern – ‘maybe they want breakfast. But they still need to brush their teeth.’
Day 10: While the world ponders, negotiates, disappoints… the dinos take matters of strategy into their own tiny hands. Well, the sore loser does, anyway.
Tenth morning. At the very least, I’m pleased the children have been exposed to the fundamentals of Battleship: peg patterns.
Day 11: The dinosaurs hit the road. where will a midnight joyride take them? Next stop: somewhere with a heatwave in November…
Eleventh morning. *THERE* they are!!!
Day 12: But they worked so hard… What do you mean it’s the wrong year for a Chanukah bush?
Day 13: It’s a… dinosaur! Welcome to the world tricerobebe. Now hold still…
Thirteenth morning. ‘No, Grandma didn’t do it. She went to bed and then they came out.’
Day 14: what if you walked into your mom’s room one morning, and she had *become* the dinosaur?
Dinomom’s note: there might be something ridic about you if the best reaction of the morning was your huz: “you can’t commit to a movie, you can’t commit to what kind of dinner you want, but you can commit to wearing that dino hat all night.”
As the calendar strikes one,
The dinos end their fun.
While the rest of us venture…
What will come alive in December?