Once upon a time, there was a little girl. She was like all the other little girls — or maybe she wasn’t…

She had long blonde hair with natural curls.

She wore red glasses, which made her even more adorable.

Like all the other girls, she loved stories about princesses.

She adored ballerinas and dreamed of becoming one someday.

She loved wearing little skirts and dresses in every possible color and pattern — just like all the girls.

She loved playing with dolls and Barbies — just like every girl.

But wait.

Something wasn’t quite right here.

Because her obsession wasn’t princes — it was, nothing more and nothing less, dinosaurs.

How could a girl possibly be interested in dinosaurs?

Nobody could understand it.

But she didn’t care.

Little by little, she learned everything about them — species, characteristics, what they ate and what they didn’t, how they defended themselves against other dinosaurs, and so much more.

Whatever she didn’t like about them, she simply changed or added to with her vivid imagination. So the T-Rex — the most dangerous known dinosaur — became her best friend, one who was only afraid of other people because they didn’t understand him. He would never hurt her, because he loved her. And she loved him.

The fact that dinosaurs were extinct was something she simply refused to accept as the only possible truth. Maybe dinosaurs still exist today — we just don’t see them, because we’re afraid. And because they’re afraid of us.

And just yesterday, while walking through the forest with Mama, she was sure of it: the tracks in the wet ground — those were definitely the footprints of a smaller T-Rex. Right here, in the woods behind the house. And no, he wasn’t a threat to any of the other animals living there. He loved them. He’d become a vegetarian so he wouldn’t hurt anyone — and there were plenty of leaves in the forest for everyone, right?

What she couldn’t understand was why the other girls — and the occasional boy — didn’t want to play dinosaurs with her.

They said they were scared.

Even though she tried with all her might to explain that dinosaurs weren’t nearly as scary as they looked. Quite the opposite, actually.

Unfortunately, the enthusiasm she hoped for never came — which was a huge disappointment. The kindergarten teacher had even explicitly banned her from taking her constant companions — the ones she never left home without — out of her backpack, so as not to scare the other children.

But why? They were just her friends who didn’t want to hurt anyone. And they were so small — they only came alive in play and through the power of imagination.

Although crushed by the disapproval of others, her love for these great creatures never faded. In the end, she would have chosen to play alone with her dinosaurs rather than let anyone insult or hurt them.

And here’s the funny thing: whenever she showed up in her pink tulle dress with a doll in her hands, all the girls suddenly wanted to play with her. They’d come up to her in the park and the game could go on for hours — right up until she saw her chance to bring her bumpy friends into the mix. The dolls loved them, so why wouldn’t her friends, right?

But that’s where the game came to an abrupt stop.

She just didn’t get it. Why, when she appeared in the exact same dress but with the T-Rex’s mom in her hand instead of a Barbie, did the very same girls suddenly not want to play with her anymore?

With boys, things worked a little differently.

Some of them did want to play with her and her Triceratops — but only when she wasn’t wearing the pink fluffy dress, only when she had on a Batman t-shirt and grey trousers, with her curls tied back and hidden under a cap.

That confused her even more.

How could things change so fast?

Because she was herself every single day! She didn’t become a different person based on what she was wearing or which toy she was holding. And yet others treated her in completely different ways depending on exactly that.

Strange, these kids.

And then one day, through the window of the building across the street, she spotted a girl in a red dress just like hers — tulle, ribbons and all — sitting in the sandbox, playing with diggers.

She walked over nervously, afraid of being rejected again. But she summoned her courage and asked whether her Stegosaurus might get a ride in the girl’s big yellow digger. The girl’s eyes lit up with delight.

And from that day on, the two of them sit in the sandbox every afternoon — in their brightly colored princess dresses — building hiding spots for dinosaurs with the big yellow digger and the blue and grey trucks, so the dinosaurs have somewhere to shelter from the cold in winter.

And the other children?

They watch from a distance and quietly dream about being that free — boys with their dolls, girls with their construction vehicles — playing together without judgment or reproach from adults or other children, simply free.

Maybe it will be a long time before they find the courage to do it. Or maybe it won’t be…

Who can say.

S-Mama