I have every good intention there ever was to be a quality mother.  All those intentions are neatly alphabetized and filed away (some cross-referenced and highly foot-noted, extremely organized) ready for use at a moment’s notice.

So yesterday, I decided to use this one:

Good Intention #456:  My childhood nostalgia shall be THEIR nostalgia too.

You know why.  You share something from your childhood (like Pixie Stix, or putting playing cards in bike spokes, or velour track suits) and this sharing creates bonding and talk about When Mommy was Little, which creates awe.  Plus, my sons know how to rock velour now. Always a plus.

Yep, Good Intention #456 is a winner.

For the most part.

So yesterday I had this brilliant idea:

I loved this show.  Absolutely loved it.  I loved Holly’s blonde pigtails and toothy smile. I loved the dad’s stalwart spirit, even though somehow he had landed his family in a weird claymation dinosaur fun park with mutant lizard things, probably forever.   Oh, and I loooooooved Will.  Will and his cute shorts and open shirt.  Will had angst.  He was ticked, people.  He had been removed from the awesome 70’s and put in this weird fun park with Sleestaks and Chaka, the most annoying ape teen ever, and thus he had attitude.  He was the David Cassidy of the show, and I just adored him.

And perhaps all that adoration (except for Chaka because really?  If you can get past the major overbite and eyebrow issues, he had a rather unpleasantly needy personality) helped me have a momentary lapse and I decided to share the love with my boys.  (And, thank you, You Tube.)

I so thought this was a good idea.  Look boys, 70’s kitsch!   Awful special effects!  Holes in the plot line!  All here!

The wee ones did not love Chaka or the pigtails, or one little BIT of the Sleestaks (I know, I could have seen that coming a mile off) and especially, oh heck NO they did NOT like the angry claymation attempt at a Tyrannosaurus Rex that for some reason I had remembered as goofy and somewhat smooshed to one side looking, but my boys pretty much equated with Satan is IN THE TELEVISION IN THE FORM OF THAT DINOSAUR MAKE IS STOP MOMMYYYYYYY.

And so that bonding moment was a bit lost (GET IT?  SEE WHAT I DID THERE??  Yes, I’m making puns at the expense of my toddlers’ trauma, but I have no choice.  I deal with guilt through twisted humor, people.  This is healing.)

So after I flung myself at the tv to get the lopsided T-rex OFF of there, and spent the next twenty or so minutes talking both my toddlers’ down off the Paleozoic ledge of hysteria because their mommy had flung SLEESTAKS at them, I decided to share with you my favorite dinosaur (toddler tested and approved) books that we have been reading that WON’T traumatize and keep ALL good intentions still intact.

1.  The classic option (minus Sleestaks):

2.  The soothing and hugely comforting, go to sleep and dream about whatever you like, even dinosaurs, because you can always draw yourself back to your bed option:

3.  The flop down on the living room floor and carefully study over and over and over option:

4.  The book that Mommy likes a lot because, wow, the pictures:

5.  Oh, and this option because it tells us how to eat with manners (dinosaurs lack them at dinner, it seems. Sometimes toddlers do too.):

So.  We’re all set.  We have our books.  The You Tubes has been banished (for a while, at least) and I have learned my lesson.  Really.  I have.  No more weird, nostalgic TV shows for my boys.  HR Pufnstuf?  Anyone?

NO WAY.

I know better.

So, here’s tonight’s book selection: