Benjamin is in the backseat, still in the preschool afterglow. “Mommy,” he says. “I really, really want a pet dog.”
I am accustomed to these statements. Last week, he wanted a pet bull, which he was going to keep in a bull cage in the living room. Currently, there is a circle of rocks in our yard, just in case any passing penguins want to use it for their nest.
“A pet dog,” he repeats. “And a bull, and a cat, and a T-Rex.”
“A T-Rex, huh?” I reply, half-listening.
“Yes, but you can’t let the T-Rex cross the street.”
I start to focus in on what he’s saying. “Why can’t the T-Rex cross the street?”
“Because of the cars.” He looks out the window and sighs, satisfied that we have settled the matter.
Wheels on the bus 
That sounds like some responsible-pet-ownerly thinking to me. But I find myself wondering if he’s more worried that the T-Rex will hurt the cars, or the other way around?
Me, I’m a bit worried about how the bull will fare with a T-Rex in the house.
Well that’s just good thinking. Dinosaurs, given their tiny brains, would likely forget to look both ways.