About a year ago, Tom started watching a show on PBS called “Dinosaur Train.”
It’s a show about dinosaurs who ride a train throughout the Mesozoic era meeting different species of dinosaurs.
Tom loves it.
So do I.
(Fact: I would have no idea what the Mesozoic era was except that I learned it ON DINOSAUR TRAIN! Because it’s amazing/I didn’t pay attention to 4th-grade.)
One of the first episodes was about dinosaur poop.
This may come as no surprise to those of you who have ever been around a toddler boy for more than 5 minutes, but TOM LOVES THAT EPISODE.
They even sing a song about dinosaur poop at the end.
(I’ll sing it to you next time I see you.)
I’m telling you all of this so you’ll understand why I (mostly normal person) bought my son DINOSAUR POOP for his birthday.
I avoided it for a year, thinking that it was just…gross.
But then I think just the fact that I have two children means that things have to be really, really, really, really gross for me to think it’s gross these days.
I mean…it’s relative.
So now buying my son poop for his birthday doesn’t seem that gross anymore.
(And now you sort of understand the level of grossness I’m living with daily.)
He opened his dinosaur poop that morning and just…loved it.
Not only is it dinosaur poop (playdough), but it came in a container that looks like poop, too.
And not only that, but his particular dinosaur poop is that of an omnivore.
Which you can tell by DIGGING THROUGH IT.
(See? This was still not too gross for me to BUY IT. What has become of me?!!)
(Just a normal picture of waffles with a side of poop and poop contents.)
Also, if you called him on his birthday, and you innocently asked, “What did you get for your birthday, Tom?”
He would definitely tell you, “I got POOP!”
And then his mom from the background would have to sort of try and explain WHY SHE BOUGHT HER SON POOP FOR HIS BIRTHDAY.
And then maybe your sweet, elderly neighbor would ask him the next day what he got for his birthday, and he would definitely tell him, “POOP!”
And OMGoodness, what-have-I-done?!
(They should warn you of this embarrassing side effect when you buy it.)
So anyway…he loves his poop.
It’s his fave.
And he won’t at all mind telling you.