EDMONTON — The heat index must have been 105. Guy tried to tell me it was too hot for this adventure, but I had promised the grandchildren and assumed that the tour through the park in the shade would take from the heat. “If we don’t go now, we won’t get to take them!  And we’ll eat at the Windmill.” That always wins an argument.

A lady told me that she had taken her nieces there and about how much fun they had had exploring, taking pictures, and playing on the playground.Seven-year-old Luke is an expert about these creatures, as most boys are, so I knew he would be enthralled. The younger two would follow along and play.

 The parking lot was not crowded.  Guy knew why. “What kind of idiots would take kids to an outdoor place on a day like this?”  

“You’re looking at two!”

Like all tourist places, the entrance and exit are through the gift shop. Immediately, the oldest had chosen his one souvenir, which happened to be a $169 crystallized rock. They all dashed from counter to counter, looking at the possibilities, as Guy bought the tickets. For the five of us, he was already nearing $60.

The walking tour led us through prehistoric times. I didn’t know what I was seeing, but Luke did. He read all the names from the plaques and explained to the five-year-old, who was much more interested in skipping down the trial after her little brother whose goal was to get away from Papa.  Luke soaked in the prehistoric information, while the other two wrestled for power.  Eme was so afraid Noah (the two-year-old) was going to get too far away from us that she nearly had a meltdown.  

The path grew longer. Noah decided that he wanted Papa Guy to carry him. By then, Noah had prehistoric dirt all over his legs from trying to escape the clutches of his sister. “I’m not too big for you,” Noah declared to Guy, so what could the man do but carry him the next mile in the overgrown wilderness where no air stirred.

When the road forked and I was concerned that Guy might conk out on me, I suggested he take Noah into the air-conditioned museum and I would finish the tour with the other two. He gladly went one way and we went another.  

After looking at every prehistoric beast in this imaginary land, I saw civilization at the top of the path and hooked up with Guy and Noah. “Oh, we forgot the fossil dig!” Luke said as he saw a dozen or so people gathered around a cement sandbox digging for fossils.  Guy and I looked at each other with furrowed brows.

At the fossil pavilion, the guide said, “I am so sorry but if you do this now, you will only have about five minutes.”

“Lady, if there is a miracle available, you will close in three minutes.”

“Sir, come stand under this fan.” By then, his shirt was soaking wet and sweat was dripping from his brow.

The kids dug for little pieces of fossils and put them into plastic bag as if they had uncovered priceless artifacts. The bags never made it to Texas.

Our exit through the gift shop added another $30 or so to the tab. Luke didn’t get his $169 rock, but he did find a much smaller one for $9.99. Eme clung to a necklace made of rocks, and Noah immediately chose trucks carrying dinosaurs. We led them to the car and as they buckled up, they said they wanted to come back next year.

As we drove out of Dinosaur World, headed for the Windmill, we realized that this was a hidden treasure right under our nose.  If the heat index had been lower, we would have spent more time walking the trail, but what we did see was nothing short of spectacular. This is a must for youngsters and their parents.

Once back home, Guy looked at me as seriously as he could and said, “I have a good heart.” I thought he meant a good heart for doing this. He continued, “If I were going to have a heart attack, it would have been today.” He is so dramatic.