Apparently, the children
loved them.
Sometimes the entire waiting room became a dinosaur world.
Julian would crawl across the carpet roaring because one particular five-year-old thought that was hilarious.
Yesterday, the children had built a cardboard volcano.
Then painted it green.
Green.
My mind flashed back to Julian’s wrist.
The streak I had seen at dinner.
Marker, he had said.
It hadn’t been marker.
It had been paint.
From a cardboard volcano.
Charlie smiled.
“One little boy especially loves him.”
Five years old.
He had been coming every Thursday for roughly ten months.
His father was supposed to arrive at 4:30.
Sometimes he did.
Sometimes he didn’t.
The boy refused to play unless Julian agreed to become Daddy Dinosaur.
I almost laughed.
“Daddy Dinosaur?”
Charlie nodded seriously.
“Oh, yes. The kids assign everybody roles.”
Apparently, one staff member was Baby Triceratops.
Charlie had somehow been assigned the role of Confused Turtle.
