|Those naughty carnivores.|
It's no secret that we don't include Santa Claus in our Christmas celebrations. I'd express it differently now but my feelings haven't changed. No elf sits on our shelf in December. The Easter Bunny doesn't stop by in the spring. We don't leave notes for or gifts from the Tooth Fairy; when the coin is found, any questions received only a shrug and a wink. For a variety of reasons, these things just don't have a place in our home.
But Dinovember? I'm in love.
I love it because it makes no sense. It's just plain ridiculous fun, the best kind of fun if you ask me. There's no reason behind it, no logic to it, and no lesson to be learned. It's pure silliness, end of story.
I love it because it isn't tied to anything. It isn't associated with any holiday, and it doesn't arrive with the expectation of gifts or candy. You can't buy a Dinovember backpack or a Dinovember hoodie or a Dinovember anything (book aside). It's entirely random, self-directed, and uncommercialized - grassroots, if you will.
I love it because it doesn't try to control anything. There's no threat of a giftless holiday for misbehaviour. The dinosaurs aren't watching and reporting back to someone else. They offer neither explanation for any of life's mysteries nor reward for its milestones. They don't come with a tidy little moral. Nothing. Nada. They just are.
I love it because it can be as simple or as extravagant as you please. Fill the bathroom sink with water so the dinosaurs can have a midnight swim, or cover the entire bathroom in toilet paper and shaving cream. There aren't any accompanying crafts or recipes or printables, no expectations beyond dino mischief in any form of your choosing. Or non-mischief, for that matter - some nights our dinosaurs have proved to be exceptionally helpful.
I just love it.
Now if you'll pardon me, I have some dinosaurs to wrangle.