I didn't think we were going to make it.

The stars of "Walking With Dinosaurs: The Live Experience," robotic, life-like behemoths that have taken up residence for the rest of the week at the Bradley Center, were still cooling out backstage (probably drinking Chai tea and getting massages) and my sobbing 7-year-old daughter was begging to leave.

"I'm scared," she said, her hands clamped over her eyes and her head buried in my chest. "Daddy, I don't want to be here. I want to go home. Now!"

It was, to say the least, an interesting way to start an evening's entertainment.

The 7-year-old knew what was going to happen at the show. She had seen photographs of the life-like dinosaurs and had been pumped about seeing the show. The excitement dissipated as soon as we walked into the darkened seating area.

The north end of the arena -- where the "stars" would enter and exit during a show that cost $20 million to develop -- was framed by a dark curtain and gigantic dinosaur teeth. It was the teeth, and some ominous music, that set off the sensors.

"I'm scared, Daddy," the 7-year-old said.

This went on for 10 minutes. I tried my best to remind the child of other instances when she didn't like something initially and underwent a change of heart -- theme park rides, a recent trip to the bowling alley -- and that this could be a similar experience. I tried to point out younger kids nearby who weren't scared (though a scan of the crowd revealed that some parents were in my boat). When the house lights went down and the program began, the tike sobbed and refused to look at the stage.

"I'll make you a deal," I said. "If you don't like the first group of dinosaurs, we'll leave."

The program, in which a paleontologist / narrator traced dinosaur evolution over 220 million years from the Triassic to the Jurassic and Cretaceous periods, began with cute little green plateosaurus babies hatching.

The child peeked through her fingers to catch some of the action, but cowered when a "predator" took the stage. Over the course of the next half-hour, the snorting, stomping marvels of technology began to win over the little one.

The 40-ft. brachiosaurus had a cute face and drew an "awww." The changing scenery drew an "oooh."

By the time the 20-minute intermission arrived, the cowering had given way to sheer enjoyment. The once fear-stricken child, now completely relaxed, chatted amiably with nearby spectators and shared a chocolate chip cookie with a longtime friend who happened to be seated next to us.

After "halftime," we watched bull-headed torosaurs square off for control of the herd. There were some sight gags. There were a few tense confrontations between giants (but no real violence or bloodshed) and a whole lot of educational narrative.

Seeing a tyrannosaurus rex protect her mischievous youngster from an ankylosaurus and a torosaur was a highlight of the night. By the time the house lights came on, the transformation was 180 degrees.

"I loved that show," she said, beaming. "I want to see it again."