Last Saturday, we attended a Roadshow (fun skit night) at our church building.  There were several skits of all kinds put on by different members of our church. One of the skits performed had a dog as one of the characters.  The dog that was used during the skit, was a beautiful Great Dane.

When Hurricane saw the dog on the stage he pointed and said, “Rawr!”

That’s what we call dinosaurs in our house. I know that Hurricane knows exactly what dogs are because we own one, and they are best friends.  Slobbery tongue and all.

But according to a 2-year old, this creature in front of him was in-fact, a dinosaur.

Later that evening, we saw the dog in the hallway walking around.  The owner of the dog was so nice, he let us pet her for a little bit.  Once again, “Rawr” came out, and this time we tried explaining that it wasn’t a “Rawr” but a “Dog”.

He looked over at my husband, with an eyebrow raised expression of “Yeah Right!” and “You’re kidding me!” then the words, “NO Da! Rawr”.  There was really no point in trying to further explain about the dog.  But from now on, I have a feeling Great Danes will be called “Rawrs” in our home.



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