Riley the Paleontologist, You May Date My Daughter in 37 Years

I like the twinkle in your eye, my young ninja. In fact, I have come to a decision. Riley, in 37 years’ time, you have my permission to date my daughter. I’m sure by that time you’ll have your billion-dollar-a-year mini-dinosaur cloning corporation running smoothly, and my Oscar-winning director/President of the United States/chastity belt enthusiast daughter will appreciate having a sweet, father-approved time with a fine young man such yourself at the ice cream parlor. Have fun.

One note:
A Jurassic Park soundtrack, Riley? A bit on the nose, my friend. A bit on the nose.