Florida. 2019.

Back when my third child was about three, we were still living in Florida. One of the (very) few benefits of that was access to Disney and its environs. There is an area now called Disney Springs, back then it was called Downtown Disney. Sort of a tourist trap, but there were some fun parts to it. The bowling alley/restaurant there was very fun with amazing food (also the best White Russian I’ve ever had). 

Apart from the clusters of shops and eateries, there are a couple of stand-alone restaurants. One of these is the T-Rex restaurant. A dinosaur themed place with a gift shop that is just as expensive as you can imagine. 

With us were a couple of friends and the inlaws, meaning we had to wait awhile for a table that sat ten. While you wait you can wander the lobby and check out the gift shop. Sprinkled about are several animatronic dinosaurs of varying species. The main attraction is the giant T-rex in the middle of the lobby. Every few minutes the T-Rex swings its head around and roars. 

My three year old had fallen asleep in the stroller shortly after we arrived. He was at the stage where his whole world revolved around dinosaurs. Shows he watched, things he wore, toys he played with; all dinosaurs. I had tried to wake him up in an attempt to defend my Best Dad Ever title by showing him all the cool things in the restaurant. He’d had a long afternoon playing with some cousins, so he was pretty out. 

If you have never been to central Florida, here are some things you should know: It rains every afternoon for 15 to 30 minutes. In the dead of winter, you will still be sweating through 200% humidity. You would think that 100% humidity would be the maximum amount of humidity, but you’d be mistaken. The weather people realized 100% should represent all of the humidity, but their soaked armpits said they should just use a larger number. 

That particular evening at Disney was nearing that special number, along with 91 degree heat and mosquitos large enough to be their own ride. The dinosaur store in front of the restaurant provided a little relief, and I’d been doing laps for about 20 minutes, dodging tourists and sales people trying to get me to buy a $12 dino cookie. 

There is a weird perception when you’re waiting for a table. Time moves differently according to how hungry you are and how cranky your children are. By differently, I mean slower. “Daddy, how long until our table is ready?”

“Just a few more minutes. Put that toy back please.”

“You said a few minutes twenty minutes ago!” Are they going to reenact the meteor part of the dinosaur thing? Any second now, hopefully. I should have asked if I could get alcohol while we waited for the table. 

I’m a bit more liberal with screen time than some parents. I enjoy my own screens, so I’m not going to be one of those “screens for me, but not for thee” dads. When I hear those parents that say they don’t own a TV and their kids won’t see a screen until they move out, I think one of two things: they’re full of shit, or their children will need a lot of therapy as adults. Don’t think that I’m some schill for Big Screentime. The content my kids consume is vetted and regulated. That’s just the way I do things. I’ve said to my boys many times, (you’ll probably see it more than once in this blog) they need variety in their food, their friends, and their entertainment. I don’t want them to be outside all day and I don’t want them to be on YouTube all day. There is a balance that can be achieved. All that is to say, sometimes to keep the peace I’ll hand the kids my phone or a tablet. Such was the case here with the five and seven year old. I gave them my phone to play Pokemon or watch something. While I was distracted with this, I hadn’t realized where I’d stopped wandering with the stroller.

“Daddy, dinosaur!”

A sleepy voice coos next to me. My three year old had just opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was the giant T-Rex that I had stopped under. The giant T-Rex that its animatronic timing dictated that now was when it was going to lean down and roar right in I–’s face. He let out such a scream that all conversation in the vicinity stopped. That sort of held-breath moment that happens when an unexpected loud noise occurs. 

He immediately started sobbing and trying to climb out of the stroller. Within seconds he was attached to my wife like a baby monkey. I had to sort of wave at people to assure them that all was well and there were no real dinosaurs in the vicinity. Having him lunge for my wife was definitely a blow to my parental dignity. I have in the past met people that think dads are generally incompetent, and I do my best to be a good parent and have my stuff together. Though at this moment I wasn’t mentally prepared, so the T-Rex scared the shit out of me, too.  

Our table was finally ready, which saved me from nearly hugging my wife like an adult monkey. The food took an eternity to arrive. The place was very busy, and the kids were restless. More than once we had to reassure I– that the dinosaurs were pretend. The food was expensive, but delicious; I had a butterflied shrimp plate that was quite good. But let me tell you, I swear on my life that the “Jurassic Chicken Tidbits” are the same dino nuggets that Walmart sells for $8.