Recently one afternoon after a day of working with a variety of counselling clients I went to my local supermarket complex.
Like many, I endeavour to make the experience as brief and focused as I can.
Near the entrance I caught sight of a Dad, perhaps mid-thirties, informally dressed, sporting a designer beard, and casually holding hands with Master Four resplendent in a dinosaur costume.
Often in my counselling office I hear from exhausted Mums about dead-beat Dads who make little positive contributions to the raising of their children.
Sometimes I hear a Dad speak of their struggle in knowing how to be a good role model, especially for their boys, given the lack-lustre attempts of their own Dad.
This supermarket Dad seemed comfortable holding his Tyrannosaurus rex’s hand (or should that be claws?) and allowing him to experience going to the supermarket in his mainly green scaled splendour.
It struck me as I observed the Dad that he wasn’t fazed when an elderly lady approached them with a loaded shopping trolley and inquired what sort of dinosaur she had the pleasure of speaking with that afternoon.
“I’m a Tyrannosaurus rex…ROAAARRR!” he exclaimed with great gusto (suggesting that this was not his first time addressing elderly ladies as his alter-ego).
To the elderly lady’s credit, she hammed up her surprise and acknowledged his exuberance with a small squeal.
The Dad and the Tyrannosaurus rex were last seen entering the dairy aisle.
When Master Four has his 21st birthday party, I wonder if there will be anecdotes of incidents like this; perhaps with a few pieces of photographic evidence?
I hope they also acknowledge his Dad. One of the good Dads. A Dad who supported his son; and let him be the kind of dinosaur who knew how to delight elderly ladies at the supermarket.