Imaginary friends are a great part of childhood for a lot of kids. I didn’t have one, but that was by choice, theirs. My daughter’s lucky, she’s on her second one already. These kids today are spoiled. One is never enough.
The first one and I got along great. It was a mouse that she called “Baby Mouse”, which sounded appropriate to me. I thought that it was cute that she talked to it in a high squeaky voice and then I remembered that was her actual voice. It would crawl from her hand onto my shoulder and then I would put it on the shelf to sleep. It never strayed too far and hardly ever made a mess. Those were the good old days.
The new one that I met the other day is a butterfly named “Butterfly”. How original is that? I don’t know what she expects me to do with a butterfly besides pretending to look at it. The mouse was easy because we could tickle it and let it crawl all over us and we’d giggle. I tried tickling the butterfly and I accidentally broke a piece of its imaginary wing off. It’s just a little piece so it’s probably the equivalent of a baby toe. You can live without it for the most part. You just look a little funny lying out at the beach. But what kind of weirdo stares at your toes anyway. Hopefully she won’t notice “Butterfly’s” imaginary imperfection or at least not know that her wonderful daddy was responsible for it.
It’s fitting that our little girl’s imaginary friends aren’t people since, as most of you know, she’s usually some sort of animal herself. She’s even been a butterfly before. Luckily I think she’s smart enough to pretend to fly and not actually attempt it. I’m a little worried about her brother when he starts copying her because there won’t be any pretending. He’ll probably head for the roof.