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.