Recently, our four year old daughter, Maddie, invented an imaginary friend. His name is Mike, and he is a small, green monster. Here they are together:
Maddie talks to him and plays with him and holds his hand. We have to wait for him. A lot. Seems Mike is a pokey little guy. Mike is becoming a bit of an inconvenience to me and my husband. We have to make room for him in the tub and in the car and in the shopping cart. Instead of two of everything, we now need three. Mike needs a plate and a hat and a pillow. Mike is a pain.
Sometimes, Mike is scared of the dark. At other times, he needs imaginary medicine. He took his seat belt off in the car the other day, apparently, which caused quite a ruckus while I was driving. Mike gets cold at night and needs to be covered with the blanket extra tight. He likes to sit next to Maddie on the couch, and sometimes he shares her milk. He doesn’t like certain Christmas songs, but he does like our Christmas tree. Mike is everywhere.
The other night at dinner, Maddie was so busy talking to and about Mike that she wasn’t eating. The rest of us finished our dinner, and the kitchen was almost cleaned up, yet Maddie wasn’t even halfway through her meal. Mike this and Mike that. My husband was losing his patience (which rarely happens.) “That’s it, Maddie,” I heard him tell her. “If you don’t start eating, Mike is going to have to leave!” (I can’t even type that without laughing. Funniest. Consequence. Ever.)
At any rate, I sure hope Maddie’s little green friend moves on to another child soon. He has just about over-stayed his welcome at the Murphy house. I hope the door doesn’t hit him in his imaginary butt…