The Lost World.
That said, Jurassic Park is one of my most beloved childhood memories. It's just that so is The Lost World. I was maybe six or seven when my parents finally let me watch Jurassic Park, only after making me watch the Making Of first, and I absolutely loved it, obviously, because dinosaurs. Mum and Dad got very, very, very sick of rewatching it, along with The Lion King.
When The Lost World came out in cinemas, I was around 9, and Dad agreed to take me to see it on the proviso that I read the book first. And that was when Emma first encountered the F word. By that age, I was absolutely mad about dinosaurs, and knew everything* about them, and had a huge little-girl-crush on Ian Malcolm/Jeff Goldblum. So a (movie) sequel where Malcolm and his awesome kid and his awesome girlfriend go to a dinosaur infested island with awesome companions was pretty much a dream come true. I know the general concensus appears to be that the sequel is kinda shit, but screw that, I love it to bits. There are raptors living in the junkyard and hunting in the long grass! And there's a baby T-rex! And mildly-morally-ambiguous-but-not-really heroes who spend the entire movie being adorable and becoming a sort of big family unit of adorable.
The third movie though. Oh my God. I can't even. I have so many feelings, and so few of them are happy ones.
*May not have actually literally known everything. In fact, learning that Velociraptors are actually quite small and covered in feathers was a bit of a devastating moment.