Story Time

Random story from my childhood that was came up on snow trip (which, by the way, was ABSOLUTELY FANTASTIC):

When my family had big holiday dinners at my grandfather’s house when I was a wee child, I would always meet some relative I only vaguely knew (my grandfather had twelve siblings, and in the words of my father the Wingers became a sort of infestation in Cleveland Heights in the 40s and 50s).

Anyway, one of said relatives was one of my uncles/cousins/uncles’ cousins/some other weird relation named Marty.  I think.  The name’s not too important.

What is important is that every single time I would see him at one of these soirées he would call me over, sit me on his lap, and ask me what the smartest dinosaur was.

Now, as the pedantic young child I was, I would respond with something along the lines of, “Oh that’s easy — it’s Troodon.  Paleontologists have found that it has a really large brain cavity for its size, and — ”

At which point Marty would go, “Nope!  It’s the thesaurus!”

EVERY SINGLE GODDAMN TIME.

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