In the soft, ferny jungles of the late Cretaceous, a young Tyrannosaurus named Rex went stomp, stomp, stomp along a path only his big feet could find. Dinosaurs whispered when they heard his mighty roar, but they didn’t know a secret about Rex—inside his huge chest was the kindest, coziest thump-thump of a very big heart.
Rex’s arms were small, it’s true, but his heart? Oh, it was bigger than the moon on the clearest dino night.
One bright morning, Rex heard a sniffle by the river. Little Trudy the Triceratops had a flower crown tangled around her frill. “I wanted to surprise my mama,” she hiccupped, “but now I’m stuck.”
Rex lowered his head. He couldn’t use his tiny arms, so he used his gentle nose. Nudge, nudge. He used his careful breath. Hooo. The petals fluttered free, and the flower crown floated back onto Trudy just right.
“Thank you, Rex!” Trudy beamed. “Your roar is big, but your heart is bigger.”
Thump-thump, went Rex’s big heart, happy and warm.
Later, near the berry bushes, Rex heard a whoosh-flap-whoosh. Pip the Pteranodon was tangled in a low vine. “I swooped too low,” Pip peeped.
Rex couldn’t reach with arms, so he thought with his heart. He crouched low and tilted his head, making a little ladder with his back. Pip stepped carefully—one, two, three—and fluttered free into the air.
“You’re a hero, Rex!” Pip cheered. “Your arms may be small, but your help is tall!”