“You know what your problem is,” I said to my husband. “There’s no dinosaur on your desk.”
I said this to cheer him up because he is frightfully overwhelmed with work and responsibilities, but truthfully, there is a dinosaur on my desk that does motivate me. The smallest member of the house (not the rabbit) recently delivered to me a six inch tall Tyrannosaurus Rex. This wee beastie sits, mouth frozen in a silent roar, each two-toed front claw facing inward, in what should be a terrifying pose. Instead, he looks as though he is remarking on the weather. He is a cheerful reminder of why I wake in the morning, of who inspires certain aspects of my creativity, and that at a certain point in the day, the work must stop so my other job can begin—after-school hours with my children. The dinosaur is a countdown without being a clock, and a chemical-free mood lifter. The best thing about the dinosaur is that it doesn’t talk at all, unless of course, one might believe what the rabbit says about it.
“What can I do to help you, sweetheart?” I asked my better half. He cited taxes, reorganization of finances, the need to finish transcribing an interview. I think I’ll just put a dinosaur on his desk.