“I’m the baby, gotta love me!” Have truer words ever been spoken? I think not.
Looking back on my childhood, Dinosaurs easily ranked in my top five shows. First of all, anything about dinosaurs was “cool” in the ’90s, not to mention that this show took the dinosaurs out of the wild and domesticated them in the best way possible.
If you have no idea what I’m talking about, Dinosaurs told the story of the Sinclair family, a family of dinosaurs who all assimilated perfectly into their humanized roles. There was the father, Earl, who spent his days working construction and his nights in front of the television. There was Earl’s wife, Fran, who stayed at home to take care of her newborn baby, appropriately named “Baby Sinclair.” Then you had Earl’s two teenage kids — Robbie, the jock, and Charlene, the gum-chewing, music-obsessed pretty girl. Rounding out the family was Earl’s live-at-home mother, a permanent staple in front of the Sinclairs’ television. There was banter, love, comedy, and television’s greatest baby.
I’ll never forget how much my mother loathed this show in the beginning. I walked around for weeks saying, “Not the momma,” even though it made no sense, because I said it to my mother. Eh, technicalities, amirite? Regardless, this show was able to create a character who practically did nothing but repeat its two catchphrases and yet was still likeable. Correction: That baby was downright loveable.
One of my favorite episodes of all time was when Baby Sinclair was born and announced the fact that we had to love him. And just like that, we all did:
Years later, I still want to hang out with the Sinclairs — even if it means I, too, go extinct — and look that baby in his purple eyes as he hits me over the head with a saucepan. And if I’m telling the whole truth here, my obsession did not end in the ’90s. I now own this show on DVD. What can I say? It is a gem — you gotta love it.