Adult Lessons from the Dino Train

Recently, I was mindlessly scrolling through the internet or Facebook -- I don't even know -- when I passed an ad for Dinosaur Train, the PBS Kids' show about dinosaurs who ride a train and learn all sorts of life-changing facts about science and natural history.

As soon as I saw the ad, I heard a screeching sound in my head, and I was suddenly transported back onto my own crazy train -- the one I was on as a first-time mother of a toddler.

Photo credit: PBS Kids

First, let me say that the early years of motherhood are very similar to middle school. Acting on a cocktail of hormones and insecurities, you begin to base your self-worth on how many friends you and your toddler have. The organic food your child eats becomes a status symbol, much like the green Izod shirt of my junior high school days. It doesn't matter if you like it. The point is that you have it.

I first learned about Dino Train on a playdate. Early on, I started to believe that playdates were critical to my son's development. As a working mother, it was difficult to join mother/son classes and My Gym, so I had to till the preschool soil, I identifing a couple of other working mothers to target as friends.

For one particular playdate, I had arranged to meet a mother/son duo at a popular life and science museum. My son and I arrived right on time. The playdate, however, arrived an hour and a half late. I spent this time popping back and forth between anger (Who is more than an hour late?) and insecurity (Why can't I make friends? My kid needs friends. His emotional growth will be stunted if he doesn't have interaction with other children at this pivotal stage in his development.) So when the playdate finally arrived, I was an angry ball of insecurity.

The playdate apologized, insincerely, and we set off. This particular museum is awesome. It has a drum hut where kids can bang and run using their hands and sticks, but, most importantly, it has an outdoor dinosaur exhibit. As we made our way through the sea of strollers, the playdate boy runs up to one of the dinosaurs and screams, Tyrannosaurus, or some dinosaur name.

What? How could he possibly know this? I looked at the plaque. He was right. How could a three year old know the name of a !@#$%^& dinosaur? My stomach dropped. My face turned hot. I looked at my son. My poor, dumb son. He was chasing the smart boy, totally unaware that he was already way behind the learning curve.

I tried not to sound insecure when I asked, "How does he know that?" The playdate mom waved her hand, "He watches Dino Train everyday?"

Dino Train? What was Dino Train? How did I not know about Dino Train? I pushed her for answers, learned when it was on and made a mental note to start recording this life-changing show. I left the playdate hating myself.

I tried once or twice to get my son to watch Dino Train, but he wasn't interested. I didn't blame him. I quickly learned that it really didn't matter, and soon enough, I began to see that so many of the things I worried about were just...dumb. I had fallen into the trap of trying to be the perfect 21st century mother. Instead of meeting my husband at the door in a freshly-ironed dress and a scotch, I was going to deliver my son to adulthood full of knowledge gained at the age of 3? What???

Soon enough, I let it go.