I have a dinosaur.

His name is Trevor, but my dad calls him Steve. I haven’t a clue why.

He’s much like a support animal.

He’s my thinking dinosaur.

I managed to get through a nation-wide exam (NAPLAN, anyone?) with him on my desk.

I am a bit of a rebel sometimes. What with my illegal dinosaurs.

Funnily enough, he made the exam somewhat less awful.

Tiny plastic dinosaurs can do that, apparently.