Like, itty bitty useless arms.
Two little floppy sticks with bony phalanges stuck out from it's upper torso.
Unable to do much of anything.
I bet it couldn't pick up socks off of the hallway floor.
Or an old used-up dryer sheet from last week's laundry that managed to make it's way to the kitchen floor.
Maybe it's head was too big to look down at these things.
It wanted to use those puny arms to pick up the string cheese wrapper on the living room end table that's been there since Monday at 3:15, but couldn't move it's massive head to look down.
Couldn't look down to see that used tissue that missed the bathroom garbage, but instead landed right in front of the toilet.
The toilet that everyone uses numerous times a day.
Because three other people *I mean T-Rexes* live in the house and they use the toilet.
But their tiny dino arms and their giant dino heads don't see these things.
One time the head dinosaur had a plan.
Place a sock in the main hallway.
A sweet pink and yellow sock.
All alone and without it's mate.
Surely someone else in the kingdom would see the sock and pick it up.
Surely someone would notice the shock of bright color upon the dark wooden terrain.
The sock was trampled over for three days.
Disregarded for three days.
Until big mama belted out in her best Jurassic roar "WHAT IN THE MESOZOIC ERA IS WRONG WITH YOU SHORT SIGHTED SHORT ARMED BEASTS?!"
A sudden burst of the universe's quickest evolution occurred.
The tiny arms of the T-Rex shot forward.
Into a length capable of picking tiny objects off of the floor.
An opposable thumb was present.
Where had that been?!
And the sock came off of the floor.
And the dinos slinked away.
There's a sheet of toilet paper on the bathroom floor right now.
It's unused, calm down!
Just a sheet that floated off of the roll when a 6 or 9 year old used the john and quicklywentforthetoiletpaper
And the dino arms have re-emerged.