I’ve mentioned once or twice in the past two years that my kids have an imaginary friend, Simba (yes, from The Lion King), that they play and fight with. They also blame him for many of the less than stellar things that occur around the house be it spilt milk (“Simba hit my arm!”) or a failure to follow directions (“Simba made me follow him onto the trampoline and tackle my sister!”)
Side note: I just realized I have never asked the kids if it’s kid Simba or adult Simba that lives with us. I’m betting the kid version but you never know with my goofballs! I think I’ll ask them in the morning because if it’s kid-Simba who spills the milk I can be more lenient on him but if it’s adult-Simba then I’ll be more strict. He should know better after all! Parenting imaginary friends, it’s a tough job don’t ya know.
The most recent Simba related moment that had me in silent stitches happened last week. Here’s what went down:
Driving, driving, driving…
Lil (my oldest girl) spoken incredulously with matching facial expressions – “Oh. My. Gosh! I don’t believe it! I just won four games in a row of tic-tac-toe!”
Me (looking in rearview mirror) – “Huh? That’s cool. Who were you playing?”
Lil – “Simba! And he didn’t even let me win.”
Me – “So you’re playing against your imaginary friend, Simba, and you won FOUR whole games of tic-tac-toe? Wow! You must be pretty good!”
Lil – “I know… I think this time I’ll go easy on him.”
It’ll be a sad, sad day in this household when Simba runs off or finds another family to live with or dies…I’m not sure how imaginary friends meet their end since I never had one, possibly because I am a twin.
Keep that imagination alive!