I always thought it would be cute if one of my kids had an imaginary friend. I never had one nor did anyone I know. But having been raised on movies like “Drop Dead Fred” I always kind of hoped somebody would.
How cute would it be that they blame things on someone who isn’t even real. How fun to set an extra place for the “friend” and to read said “friend” bedtime stories.
I always thought it would be fun.
Until one fateful Sunday when I left the house with no imaginary friend only to return 2 hours and one nap later to a tearful 3 YO asking “Where is Wubby????”
I wracked my brain trying to remember which stuffed animal was named “Wubby”. But alas, I came up blank. After a Spanish Inquisition-level interrogation I was able to glean a few facts from Miny (the 3 YO).
- “Wubby lives in my house.”
- “Wubby sleeps in my bed with me.”
- “Wubby is a boy like me.”
- “Wubby is 3 like me.”
Mystery solved. Wubby is an imaginary friend. Or was he?
The only problem is that Wubby didn’t come home for dinner that night. His seat stayed empty at the table, his untouched plate was scraped into the garbage. Even the pudding we saved for him got put back into the fridge with some saran wrap over it. He didn’t even show up at bedtime for a song or a story.
No matter what we did to entice Wubby to come back home he stayed away.
I put tearful Miny to bed with promises that Wubby was on a trip and would come home soon. I figured after a night’s sleep we would forget all about Wubby.
Well I did, but Miny was a different story.
As I backed out of my driveway that morning for work Miny sat perched on the back porch screaming out into the woods “WUBBBBBYYYYYYYYY WHERE ARE YOUUUUUUUUUU?”
It was heartbreaking to say the least.
Days came and went and that damn Wubby never showed up no matter what I tried. I even tried pretending I was kissing him good night and tucking him in.
“Wubby not there,” Miny would sob at my efforts.
What kind of diagnosis in the DSM-IV is it if you create an imaginary friend that abandons you? I mean surely that’s a diagnosis of some kind right? How horrible!
After a few weeks of this Miny seemed to forget the entire event and hasn’t spoken of Wubby since. Kids are so dang weird.
If you liked this post be sure to check out The Epi-Pencident or The Olan Mills Generation.