During one of my recent travels, I missed out on one of those magic parenting moments. My wife told me about it later, and it cracks me up.
My son had his toy dinosaurs all gathered together. The biggest one was laying on its side. Deceased. The others were huddled around, ready to eat. And before they started, they sang. (Actually, my son was singing for them, the Blessing Song, which sounds suspiciously like Frere Jacque.)
Re-enactment
God our Father,
We thank you,
For our food.
Bless it to our bodies,
Bless it to our bodies,
A-men, A-men.
While I’m not sure what sort of table manners the dinosaurs indeed had, my son did get one thing right: the quick and nimble survive, while the slow and lumbering become lunch.
No dinosaurs were harmed in the making of this picture
