I can’t do it anymore! I am a grown person and you cannot make me do it. There’s too many! For the love of God, look at that stack! It’s an unrealistic expectation and I’m putting my foot down. There’s gotta be at least 27 there! What the hell is wrong with you? Don’t look at me like that either, all sweet and innocent and eager for knowledge. Turn your head away when I’m talking to you. You’re too damn cute and I can’t do this while looking at your face.
Here’s the deal. I just don’t like dinosaurs. Never really have. Any interest and/or curiosity I once had in them is definitely gone as a direct result of our special reading time together. I know you really like them and this is super hard for me to say, but I cannot read anymore dry facts about the Compsognathus. I shouldn’t even know about that one.
No one should.
It’s not so much the whole realm of dinosaur literature that I need to get away from, but much more so those that are specifically categorized as non-fiction. I think I’m allergic at this point and/or at the very least have developed ‘situation specific narcolepsy.’ By the time I know what’s happening, I’ve put myself in a coma after page two. And then I see you sitting there so engaged and interested and it makes me feel so unbelievably bad about myself. It’s not fair. Shame on you.
I hate to state the obvious and/or insult your intelligence at this point, but you’re 4 years old. Maybe take it down a notch and choose your reading material accordingly. Soon enough you will be a fluent reader. When that day comes, I will fully support your decision to dig deeper and further explore the 700-900 additional classifications of dinosaurs out there just waiting to be read about on the shelf. They’re not going anywhere, trust me.
I’m not trying to squash your curiosity and/or interest level either, so do not even go there. Here’s the hard truth. One fact based book about a Megalosaurus is the same as another fact based book about a Megalosaurus. The cover might look different, but the information is the same. Capeesh?
Please don’t cry. We can read ‘Dinosaur books’ anytime, so long as the dinosaur to speak of is wearing a funny hat and the entire process involves changing the inflection in my voice at least twice to tell a story with an actual ending.
It’s nice when the dinosaur has a name too…
It’s analogous to your disdain for broccoli. It gets worse over time. Repeated exposure is not the answer, so please stop asking. Please.
That said, I love you. Furthermore, I guarantee that if you end up being a world famous paleontologist some day, I will be front and center at your very important symposium, so unbelievably proud…and equally bored out of my fucking mind.
It’s not you, it’s me.