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