It's all fun and games until the dinosaur tackles you and rips out your throat

J has a dinosaur. A big, black and white, remote controlled robotic dinosaur with artificial intelligence components. You push a button (conveniently located right on the beast's unmentionables) to start and stop the thing. But you must (MUST) have the remote control in hand to deal with the ramifications. For without the remote control, the dinosaur acts of its own volition. With its fierce jaws aimed at your jugular, the dinosaur will violently shake its tail and roar angrily before it lunges, leaping across the room. And honestly, it can be pretty difficult to get close enough to turn the fool thing off again.

Today, I was in the kitchen feeding baby N when J, alone in the living room, pushed the Button of Doom as the remote control sat, unattended, on the opposite end of the room.

The dinosaur took off like a shot, roaring and shaking its tail, as it aimed itself at J. Cleverly, J evaded the beast by leaping onto the couch. The fierce creature then turned its attention kitchen-ward. It bounded across the room, presumably aiming for N's apple sauce and Cheerios, but was temporarily distracted by the basement door. Which it tried to eat. In an effort to protect his household, J took the opportunity to bravely run toward the dinosaur. Grabbing the creature by its violently shaking tail, J attempted to pull it away from the door. And the dinosaur turned. It lowered its head. It roared at J. Not to be bested by a toy animal, J stood firm and, raising himself to his full thirty-eight inches, shouted "Stop, Dinosaur! I command you!!"

Not surprisingly, the dinosaur was unimpressed. It advanced on J, who backed away quickly while continuing to scream "I SAID STOP!! STOP DINOSAUR!! I COMMAND YOU!!!" And so, I protected my child. I snuck up behind the out-of-control animal as it menacingly approached my 4-year old. I reached under its tail, and I hit the power button, stopping the mad beast dead in its tracks and quite possibly saving my child from a tragic dinosaur-related end.

And then, of course, J got mad at me for turning off his dinosaur when he wanted to play with her. Ungrateful little so-and-so.

(We're sending it to preschool next week for show-and-tell. Because we're awesome like that.)