Dinosaur fix

Bank Holiday Monday arrived with the Brand family feeling as though they had been hit by a lorry.

Not a very fast lorry.

Possibly a lorry being driven by someone who had stopped for a sandwich halfway through.

After the disastrous BBQ party on Saturday, Sunday had been a complete write-off. Everyone but Alfie had spent most of the day feeling dreadful, moving slowly around the house and making occasional noises that suggested their internal organs were holding a particularly unpleasant meeting.

By Monday morning, things were better.

Technically.

Mr Brand still looked suspiciously pale.

Mrs Brand was drinking tea as though it were medicine.

Marjory was on the mend, but for hygiene reasons could not go into work, in case she managed to transmit germs to her patients. 

Barry and Marmaduke, however, had recovered completely.

Which was unfortunate.

Because two four-year-olds with their energy restored are rather like releasing two raccoons into a supermarket.

The families gathered in the kitchen.

“We need a plan,” announced Alfie.

“Revenge,” said Mr Brand.

Mrs Brand looked at him.

“That wasn’t the plan I had in mind.”

“The people who gave us food poisoning have ruined our Bank Holiday weekend,” said Mr Brand. “I think we should give it back.”

“You can’t give food poisoning back.”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s not how food poisoning works.”

“It should be.”

Barry was sitting at the kitchen table swinging his legs.

“I think we should have dinosaurs.”

Marmaduke nodded enthusiastically.

“Or dangerous animals.”

“Dinosaurs are dangerous animals,” said Barry.

“Not anymore.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re dead.”

Barry thought about this.

“That’s disappointing.”

Alfie, meanwhile, was eating toast and looking much more sensible.

“I’d like to go to the library.”

Barry stared at him.

“The library doesn’t have dinosaurs.”

“It has books about dinosaurs.”

“But the dinosaurs aren’t in them.”

“That’s rather the point.”

Marmaduke leaned towards Barry.

“Alfie’s boring.”

“I heard that,” said Alfie.

“I know.”

Mrs Brand sighed.

It was their last day before school started again tomorrow. The thought of getting everyone ready for school, packed lunches, uniforms, shoes and the return of normal life was already looming over the adults like a dark cloud.

Then Mrs Brand had an idea.

“What about Lightroom?”

Everyone looked at her.

“Lightroom?”

“There’s a show there called Prehistoric Planet: Discovering Dinosaurs. It’s an immersive dinosaur experience.”

Barry’s eyes widened.

“DINOSAURS?”

“Yes.”

“REAL ones?”

“No.”

Barry looked disappointed.

“Very realistic ones.”

His face brightened again.

“Can they eat Marmaduke?”

Marmaduke looked horrified.

“Why me?”

“Because you’re slower.”

“I am not!”

“You are.”

“I am not!”

“You definitely are,” said Alfie.

“Right,” said Mrs Brand. “That’s decided.”

And so, shortly afterwards, the Brand family and the Jackson family set off.

Mr Brand was still muttering about revenge.

“I’m just saying,” he said as they walked, “if they weren’t dropping their son for the first day of Year 4 tomorrow and we’d definitely see them, I’d send them a strongly worded potato.”

“A potato?”

“I haven’t worked out the details yet.”

Mrs Brand decided not to ask.

At Lightroom, they entered the exhibition.

The first room was dark.

Barry stopped.

Marmaduke stopped.

Alfie stopped.

Even Mr Brand stopped talking about food poisoning.

Then, somewhere in the darkness, there was a sound.

A deep, rumbling roar.

Barry’s mouth fell open.

The floor seemed to tremble.

A huge dinosaur appeared on the screen above them.

It was enormous.

Not “quite big”.

Not “bigger than Daddy”.

Enormous.

Barry stood absolutely still.

Marmaduke whispered, “Whoa.”

Alfie whispered, “That’s incredible.”

Mrs Brand smiled. Marjory gripped her arm, and nothing unnerved Marjory.

Mr Brand forgot about revenge.

For once, nobody said anything.

The dinosaurs moved across enormous screens, towering over the audience. There were enormous herbivores travelling in herds, predators stalking through ancient forests, dinosaurs calling to one another and dramatic scenes of prehistoric life unfolding all around them.

Barry’s usual commentary had completely disappeared.

No questions.

No running.

No “look at me”.

No “what happens if…”

Just silence.

Mrs Brand leaned towards Mr Brand.

“I never thought I’d see the day.”

“What?”

“Barry being quiet.”

Mr Brand nodded solemnly.

“I think we should enjoy it.”

A huge Tyrannosaurus appeared.

Barry slowly reached for Marmaduke’s hand.

Marmaduke took it.

The dinosaur roared.

Neither boy moved.

Then another dinosaur appeared behind it.

Barry whispered, “There’s another one.”

“I know,” whispered Marmaduke.

“It’s massive.”

“I know.”

“Really massive.”

“I know.”

The two boys stood completely mesmerised.

Alfie smiled.

“I think they’re actually impressed.”

“They’re stunned,” said Mrs Brand.

“Temporary condition,” said Marjory, and she was right.

Because ten minutes later, Barry had found his voice again.

“Could a T. rex eat a bus?”

“No,” said Alfie.

“Why?”

“Because it wouldn’t know what to do with one.”

“Could it eat Daddy?”

Mr Brand looked over. “I’d like to see it try.”

“Could it eat Marmaduke?”

“WHY DOES EVERY DINOSAUR WANT TO EAT ME?” Marmaduke shouted.

Several people nearby laughed.

Marjory covered her mouth.

Mr Brand grinned.

The exhibition continued, taking them through prehistoric landscapes and showing the dinosaurs as living creatures rather than merely skeletons in museums.

They saw enormous creatures moving together, smaller dinosaurs darting through the undergrowth and predators hunting.

Barry watched everything.

Even the bits that were slightly frightening.

Especially the bits that were slightly frightening.

“This is the best day ever,” he announced.

At one point, a huge dinosaur appeared directly in front of them.

Barry stepped backwards.

Marmaduke stepped backwards.

Alfie stepped backwards.

Mr Brand stepped backwards.

Mrs Brand looked at all four of them.

“Really?”

Marjory raised her eyebrows as she grinned. 

Mr Brand shrugged.

“It was very realistic.”

The dinosaur roared.

Barry jumped.

Then he laughed.

And suddenly all the tension of the previous two days seemed to disappear.

The food poisoning.

The ruined weekend.

The miserable Sunday.

The moaning.

The groaning.

Mr Brand’s proposed potato-based revenge campaign.

All forgotten.

They emerged from Lightroom into the daylight.

Barry looked up at the sky.

“I want a dinosaur.”

“You can’t have a dinosaur,” said Mrs Brand.

“Why?”

“They’re extinct.”

“Then we’ll make one.”

Alfie groaned.

Marmaduke nodded.

“I know how.”

Mrs Brand looked alarmed.

“How?”

“We need a chicken.”

“Why?”

“Chickens are basically dinosaurs.”

Alfie stared at him.

“They are related to dinosaurs.”

“See?” said Marmaduke. “I was right.”

Barry looked delighted.

“Can we get one?”

“No.”

“Can we have a dinosaur egg?”

“No.”

“Can we dig one up?”

“No.”

“Can we make one?”

“No.”

Barry thought for a moment.

“Can we have chicken nuggets?”

Mrs Brand smiled.

“Yes.”

Barry grinned.

“Excellent.”

Mr Brand looked at his family.

For the first time all weekend, everyone looked happy.

“Do you know what?” he said. “I think the weekend might have been rescued.”

Mrs Brand slipped her arm through his.

“Even without giving food poisoning back?”

Mr Brand sighed.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“I still think the potato idea had potential.”

And with that, the Brands and the Jacksons headed home.

Tomorrow was school.

Tomorrow there would be uniforms, lunchboxes, early mornings and sensible behaviour.

But for one last afternoon of the summer holidays, Barry and Marmaduke had dinosaurs in their heads, Alfie had a library trip already planned for another day, and Mr Brand had temporarily abandoned his revenge mission.

Although, somewhere deep inside his mind, a potato was still waiting.