I Called An Exorcist on My Daughter’s Imaginary Friend
My 3 year old, Bella, has started babbling; the paediatrician calls it baby talk but we think she’s secretly planning world domination, telepathically communicating with the 5 year old next door who can’t keep his boogers to himself.
Recently she’s started talking to someone in the corner of my room. Shit, another imaginary friend. I thought we killed off the last one (He choked on an apple, that’s the official story). Hubby and I started taking bets about its name. Bella? Richard? Or is she gonna go all London Tipton and name her Princess Anabella Christian III?
Neither of us guessed it right. HIS name (as she points it out while literally hissing at us) is Luis. She listed down a set of rules for all of us to follow around Luis with the customary declaration ‘he’s family now’.
We just thought it, sorry, HE was a figment of her overactive imagination. She’d spend hours, sitting on her little wooden chair in the corner of the hall talking, laughing and high-fiving him. I mean, I’ve never actually seen the high five but I assumed that’s what I heard.
If there was a perfect imaginary friend Luis was it. I especially love the way the chair puts itself back after dinner and his plate somehow ends up in the dishwasher…
