Imagination

Tiny hands wrapped around a plastic figurine.

No chance at letting go, prehistoric love, like he knew this comfort before.

Plotting imaginary fights, T-Rex vs. Raptor, who wins?

You decide.

Over mountains, terrain, dinosaurs don’t live in deserts. I learn, as you learn.

Your mind hyperfixated on their story; you tell history, imaginary, reality. It’s true you tell me, Triceratops is my favourite because of the horns, “NO. Teradactyl, because her has wings.”

I call you a Tera-factal, you roll on the ground giggling, flapping your wings

- “noo I Brontosaurus”, as you extend your long neck.

A paleontologist, a dino wiz, a boy on the spectrum. You are 4, you know it all. My favourite dino boy.