Monday, February 1, 2010

Wow. Just wow.


Dear Curtis Stone,

Why do you insist on tormenting me? All I wanted to do was buy my son a toy, a little something to brighten his day, put a smile on his sweet face. So I take a look down the toy isle of my friendly neighborhood CVS, and what do I see? I'll tell you what, a crazy prehistoric menage-a-trois, that's what. Really Curtis? Really? Now I’m no paleontologist, but this little display of dino behavior seems odd to me. First of all, I thought that the T-Rex was the most dangerous and feared dinosaur of all. Who would have guessed that he had a soft side? Apparently even tough guys need to feel “taken care of” once in a while. And luckily for Mr. Rex, Big Daddy Triceratops is more than happy to oblige. But a child’s toy Curtis? I’m not prepared to give my son “the talk” just yet, thank you very much. And when I do, you can bet the words Jurassic, carnivore, and herbivore will never come up. That’s just not how I choose to raise my baby. And if you have a problem with it, come to League City and face us like the super-duper Australian chef that you are…I dare you.

Love in the time of dinosaurs,

JR

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