Mundo Jurassico

Sam has been really into dinosaurs recently. He has two monstrous (no pun intended) compendiums of dinosaurs, both claiming to be all-inclusive (though one excludes flying dinosaurs, pterodons, and swimming dinosaurs, plesiosaurs) that we read and re-read constantly. His favorite is ‘ceratops’. But he doesn’t like ‘the roaring dinosaurs.’ He knows the difference between the meat-eaters and the plant-eaters. Both books are startlingly graphic for children’s books and depict dinosaurs ripping huge chunks of flesh from one another. I knew on some level it was only a matter of time before Sam had a bad dream about dinosaurs, and, sure enough, he ended up in our bed last week.

But the infatuation also reflects a level of knowledge-seeking heretofore novel for Sam and definitely transcends Thomas the Train, so I indulge him. Which is not to say, dinosaurs aren't really cool and I like learning about them, too. Parasaurolophus is my favorite. Elise doesn’t believe me that the long cartilaginous protrusion on the back of parasaurolophus’ head is a horn that he blows to warn the other dinosaurs at the watering hole when a roaring dinosaur is in the immediate neighborhood, nor does she believe that a paleontologist recreated the horn of a parasaurolophus out of PVC tubing to hear what it sounded like.



Scheduling, too, has become important to Sam, and I need to remind myself to share our plans with him. I think knowing what is coming will help manage his expectations and manage any anxiety that might come with not knowing what is coming. I know I’d be kind of anxious if I woke up everyday not sure of what I was supposed to be doing. Sam will ask before he goes to bed at night, right before or after we say our prayers, “What we doing tomorrow?” and when he wakes up in the morning, “What we doing today?” Last week, everyday he wanted to go see the dinosaurs.

O Mundo Jurassico arrived in Brasilia, and Sam was on best behavior all week so that he could go see the dinosaurs on Saturday. Mundo Jurassico is an exhibit of life-sized animatronic dinosaurs. I had previewed the dinosaurs online and thought that if the snarling T Rex were at the end of the exhibit or if there were some way we could see the herbivores without having to see the carnivore, we would be okay. Because most of the dinosaurs were pretty benign-looking.

We arrived at the mall and made our way over to the exhibit. Outside was an arch leading into the ticket booth and exhibit with the head of giant Tyrannosaurus Rex on it. This was as far as we made it. Sam was too scared to go any further. We told him he was smart for deciding it was going to be too scary (and I told myself it was smart of him to decide before I shelled out 50 Brazilian reais per person that it was going to be too scary). Later, as we walked back through the mall, he apologized, “Sorry, guys, I thought the dinosaurs were too scary.” He’s good at apologizing and taking fault for things, though he often apologizes for things that he has no control over and accepts blame for things that aren’t his fault. I am quick to not let him take the blame for that which is not his fault, i.e. “Sorry, guys, it is cold outside. That is my fault.” Umm, Sam unless you have learned to control the weather since nap, it’s not your fault.

We went and got haircuts at Happy Hair instead. Though Happy Hair was less than happy for Petey who wailed through his entire second haircut. We tried a new Lebanese restaurant for lunch, shwarma and kibe. Elise and I both discovered that neither of us are fans of warm lettuce which forced me to remark on the fad of grilled caesar salads. For a well-deserved and long-in-coming date night we had drinks at Devassa, a new cervejeria on the water at Pontao (It is almost the heart of winter in Brazil and the air was cool.) before going to fondue.

I couldn’t remember if Elise and I had ever done fondue together though I know hot bubbly cheese is one of her favorite things in the world. We showed up to Au Fondue without a reservation and were seated at a small table in the corner in front of the ventilation fan. It didn’t matter. It was dark and perfectly quaint and I don’t believe either of us much minded or were bothered by the fact that the smoke from everyone else’s fondue pots blew toward us and that the flame on our own fondue pot failed to lick the bottom of the pot for the violent suck of the ventilator fan.

Brazilians have a delightful regard for PDA, public displays of affection. Wherever we go, undoubtedly we run across a young couple necking on a bench or clinging to one another as if their lives depended on it at a bus stop. As we are wont to do on many occasions, Elise and I channeled our inner Brazilians at dinner. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the hot bubbly cheese talking. Maybe it was that we are made to feel that small adventures like this one remind us of the great adventure that our honeymoon was, and that we can still go on small honeymoons on date night with our children close at hand, safe and secure, even when we accidently leave their security blanket in the car and take it to dinner with us. oops. Sorry Sam. My fault.