My youngest son has a make believe friend. He just appeared one day after reading a story about a lion. His name is Roarie, and he’s small enough to fit in the palm of my 2 year old’s hand.
Roarie spends most of his time outside our dining room window, unless he’s being used to convince Adam to do something.
“Roarie? Do you want some chicken?”
“Roarie? Why don’t you come and put on your shoes?”
“Roarie? Come jump in the bath!”
One day, we were playing in the family room. Adam, per usual, was being a stinker, refusing to come by me for some reason or another.
“Oh look, Adam, I have Roarie here!” I held up my open-palmed hand and smiled.
Adam squealed and came running.
Much to my dismay, Adam reached out his hand, plucked Roarie from my palm, and proceeded to pop the poor lion into his mouth.
“Adam!” Nathan yelled, his mouth hanging open. “Did you just eat Roarie?”
Adam grinned - a toothy, triumphant smile.
Luckily enough for Roarie, he was immediately spit back into my outstretched hand, apparently unscathed. Since then, Roarie has materialized through walls, multiplied exponentially several times, been eaten and regurgitated more times than I can count, been at the center of many a magic trick, and provided endless hours of amusement.
I’ve always known imaginary friends can’t be explained with logic, but I always wondered how they are invented. Turns out they simply appear one day and adeptly defy the laws that bind the rest of us.