A Tale of Two Tails by Henry Winkler Page B

pounced on me again, and growled right into my ear. My eardrum started to bang itself silly, like it was going to pop out of my ear and march in a parade.
    â€œEase up, little guy,” I said.
    â€œI’m not a little guy. I’m a T. rex,” Mason reminded me.
    â€œRight, T. rex. Back off, will you?”
    â€œT. rexes don’t back off. They attack. And they never give up. Ggggrrrrrrrrrrrrr.”
    â€œCool, Mason. That’s the attitude I’m looking for. The never give up part, that is. Not the growling part.”
    â€œT. rex is hungry,” Mason said. Just then, another kindergarten girl with bright red ribbons in her pigtails walked by. Mason jumped out at her, with his little claw hands pointed in her direction, and let loose another monster growl. She screamed.
    â€œStop doing that,” she shouted as she ran off. “I’m telling Mrs. McMurray on you!”
    Mason laughed, pretty satisfied with his little self.
    â€œCome with me, buddy,” I said, leading him by the hand over to an empty area of the sandbox.
    I picked up one of the blue plastic shovels and used it to draw a square in the sand.
    â€œStand in there,” I said to him.
    â€œWhy?” Mason wanted to know.
    â€œBecause it’s T. rex Land,” I said.
    â€œHank, it’s just a stupid square.”
    â€œThat’s if you have no imagination. But my imagination says that whenever you stand in that square, you will turn into a T. rex and you can roar from now until the next Ice Age.”
    â€œReally?” Mason said. I could see his little eyes light up.
    â€œYeah, and when you’re with your friends, you don’t have to scare them. You can save all your scary stuff for Dinosaur Land.”
    That made Mason really happy. He stood in that square and let out five or six powerful roars.
    â€œOkay, I’m done for now,” he said. “Let’s play something else.”
    â€œThat’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about, Mason. I have a great game. It’s called Let’s Teach Cheerio a Trick . ”
    â€œHow can you teach a piece of cereal a trick?” he asked. “Oh, I know. You mean like floating on its back in milk.”
    â€œWrong Cheerio, Mase. I’m talking about my dog. Remember him?”
    â€œOh yeah. The little wiener dog. He’s short and funny.”
    â€œJust like you.”
    â€œI’m not short. I’m five.”
    â€œGood point,” I said. “So are you in?”
    â€œOkay, I’ll play,” Mason agreed. “Can we start now?”
    â€œYou have to go back to class now. We can start later.”
    â€œI don’t want to go back to class,” Mason sulked, “because it’s alphabet time and I hate the alphabet. I can’t keep all those letters in order in my brain.”
    â€œI know exactly how you feel,” I said. “But here’s the deal. We can’t get going until after school. Then we’ll take Cheerio to the park and start teaching him.”
    â€œCan my mom come? Because it’s Tuesday and that’s our park day.”
    â€œSure, she can come. See how perfect this is working out, Mase? Finally, Team Cheerio is moving full steam ahead.”
    I know what you’re thinking. Recruiting one five-year-old who thinks he’s a T. rex is not exactly full steam ahead. But I was determined to make the best of this. Like my mom always says, if life gives you a lemon, make lemonade. Just be sure to leave out the white sugar because it’s very bad for your dental health.
    Just at the moment when I was finally starting to feel better about Team Cheerio and my hopes for the mascot contest, who walked by but Nick the Tick. I could hear his big lumbering feet pounding the playground as he stomped up to us. He was the real T. rex.
    â€œYou’re pathetic, Zipperbutt,” he said. “Hanging out with a kindergartner.”
    â€œI’m on Team