We outgrew the whole dinosaur phase quite some time ago. Honestly, we were never really that into dinosaurs back when they generally reach their peak of preschool popularity. But then, somehow Uncle Geoff convinced us that little four-year-old Bry Bry loves the Jurassic Park movies and “they’re not too scary or violent.” They’re fine… sheesh.
And so it’s 1990 at my house.
We’ve watched all the Jurassic Park movies, which by the way, are totally bloody, people-eating fests and not for the four-year-old Barney crowd. We now have an Xbox game, four Lego sets, and a teeny baby T-Rex named Blue that I’m constantly protecting in my pockets so as not to lose her at fancy restaurants.
Jake and I have spent hours together in the early morning hours and late into the evenings, reading Jurassic Park and The Lost World. We’ve had intense, deeply philosophical discussions on extinction, genomic testing, chaos theory, and climate change. I had no memory of the themes and theories in these books. Jake noticed the kids and women always make it out alive. Sometimes he’s too logical… calculating the number of pages left or the existence of a sequel to reduce the excruciating anxiety of strategic cliff hangers and nowhere-to-turn chase scenes.
I was shocked that within the first ten pages it referenced my previous two employers… telling the entire origin story of Genentech, plus the power of Cray computers, which is what I sold in my first job at Sun. Jacob and I are of the same mind that the planet will outlive us (though not as we know it). It’s people that aren’t gonna make it.
Meanwhile, this spring we’ve experienced the return of the barn owls to our owl box. The swooping. The screeching. All. Night. Long. James has had some bad dinosaur dreams. I find myself tossing and turning. The velociraptors surrounding the house. There’s no way out.
One night it was late and Jacob was still up, as usual. The screeching swooped past the living room on the right. Then the left. It’s coming from all sides…
“Jake, the velociraptors are out there,” I say, ominously.
“Sure Mom.” He rolls his eyes.
Are you? Sure?