A Memo to Imaginary Friends

Dear Imaginary Friends

Apologies for the note, but pinning you down for a face-to-face is impossible when you’re invisible.

As you know, I’m down with the kids, welcoming to their friends. But you’re starting to take the non-imaginary mick.

Firstly, it’s NOT O.K. to keep demanding REAL food. The clue is in the name. You are IMAGINARY. So are your biscuits, got it?

Also, hate to rush you, but getting out of the house is slow enough without you being left behind every time. Keep up!

Any chance you could work on the clumsiness? As if I haven’t got enough cleaning up to do without you knocking over plant pots and upturning plates every two seconds. Enough.

Also, teeny bit annoying – and hard to take seriously – when you change the rules of our imaginary games every time you’re not winning.

Take the shape-shifting. Are you a Rabbit or are you a Monkey? Or are you invisible? It’s impossible to play along when I don’t know whether I should be offering carrots or bananas. Or other invisible 5-a-days.

And that thing when you get all cliquey and leave out the younger sister? Not cool.

Any chance you could stop faking your birthday every other day? No one loves an attention seeker.

Also, I know you come from a parallel universe, so your sense of timing is probably out of whack, but on what planet is O.K to hype kids up at 7pm?

Lastly, that disappearing act. Terrifying. It must be great to take off at every tantrum, but would it kill you to take one for the team occasionally?

Believe me; you might be imaginary, but the struggle is real.

Yours, in real rage,

Mum.

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