The story begins (and ends) many, many years ago. I was but a humble ad designer toiling away for the Empire in a place that sucked the life from one's very soul. All one could do to survive with mind intact was to decorate a shared cubicle with a dinosaur or two. And where two dinosaurs lived there would soon be more as co-workers delivered them like storks deliver babes. New ones would arrive at my desk and join the growing throng at a disturbing regularity.
All of this would be fine except that I shared my tiny workspace with someone who worked on the night shift. And if said person wasn't too keen on a herd of hadrosaurs migrating across the top of our mutual monitor, I might come in one day to find them all permanently gone. But such was not exactly the case as a note left by Erica, my night shift space-mate, would attest to. Yes, my dinosaurs had been taken, but they were safe and would be returned before our Christmas break.
Weeks passed and I wondered where my toys had gone when, only days before the celebration of the virgin birth, my dinosaurs arrived to usher in the holiday properly! These pics of Erica's handicraft are probably thirteen or fourteen years old, and I've always meant to do something with them. So, at last, here they are! The baby Jesus is being played by a brachiasaurus hatching out of its shell. Clever!