According to Hofmann: The imaginary freeloader
Just when I think life is starting to return to normal following whatever new helping of crazy that the world dishes out, life throws me a curve ball. A freeloader has been introduced to my family.
I actually witnessed the birth of this freeloader, somewhat, and it was still a shock to me.
No, I’m not talking about a pet giving birth to a litter or scorpions hatching from the cactus I bought at a dollar store in New Mexico.
I’m talking about my stepdaughterĢƵ imaginary friend.
Emma was recently in a swimming pool as I took my position on the deck where the beer happened to be as the weather was mild and the water was freezing cold.
“Come in and play with me, daddy,” Emma said, wanting me to take part in such games as Marco Polo, ring toss, 20 questions (why she prefers to play that game in the pool is beyond me) and reenacting stunts from “The Matrix”.
“No, thanks,” I said between beer belches. “Daddy fell for that trick last time and lost all feeling in his toes for six hours.”
“Pleeeeeeaaaaaassssse!” she whined.
“Just swim around for a while,” I said.
“ThatĢƵ okay,” she said. “Emily is going to play with me. Right, Emily?”
My first thought was how many beers I consumed and if I was going through an alcohol-induced hallucination, but thatĢƵ hard to do on three cans of Old Milwaukee. My other thoughts came out as questions to Emma.
“WhoĢƵ Emily, whereĢƵ Emily, why is Emily a thing now?” I asked.
Emma explained the obvious, that Emily is her friend and sheĢƵ standing next to Emma in the pool.
“Can Emily eat with us tonight?” Emma asked. “You can set a plate for her, and she can sit next to me.”
“Umm…sure, I guess,” I said, but then decided to avoid doing more cooking than is required of me. “But doesn’t Emily need to go home to her family?”
“SheĢƵ going to live with us!” Emma said and then they played the saddest game of Marco Polo ever.
Not only was I angry that such major life changes were taking place behind my back while right in front of me, I was also afraid that Emily was going to be more trouble than she was worth.
Turns out I was right because not only did I have to set a plate and some food for Emily that eventually made its way to the dog, but Emma included her in pretty much everything and anything that she was doing, which also involved me.
For example, when I said, “good morning” to Emma, she insisted I say the same to Emily; when I yelled at Emma for defecting her citizenship to Greece, she said it was EmilyĢƵ idea and when I asked Emma to pull my finger, Emma said she wanted Emily to do it.
My wife said itĢƵ perfectly normal for Emma to have an imaginary friend because my wife had an imaginary friend when she was a kid.
My mother argues that I also had an imaginary friend as a child, but I pointed out to her that my friend, Mr. T, happens to be very real, and his wife, Mrs. T, would always put pierogies in our freezer.
Man, my childhood was epic.
But my focus is now on EmmaĢƵ childhood and how I can fix this ongoing Emily issue because I don’t think any imaginary friend should require lifestyle adjustments.
I know I can’t convince Emma that Emily doesn’t exist because I can’t even convince her to clean her room, especially since Emily is the slob who doesn’t lift a finger; I know I can’t simply ignore Emily because my refusal to swim earlier is what created Emily in the first place, so if I ignore her, two more will show up like Gremlins in water; finally, I can’t put a hit out on Emily because EmmaĢƵ imaginary lawyer will sue me over EmmaĢƵ emotional trauma.
However, Emily is EmmaĢƵ IBFF (Imaginary Best Friend Forever), but sheĢƵ 10 years old, and real BFFs (Best Friends Forever) at that age only last summer or two, which makes them BFFSO (Best Friends For Summer Only) because a NBFF (New Best Friend Forever) normally makes an appearance.
So my plan is to introduce Emma to her new IBFF, Mister Misses, a magical being made out of rainbows that is part unicorn. Mister Misses doesn’t eat or drink or need acknowledgement from anyone, and Mister Misses’ favorite games include cleaning EmmaĢƵ room, taking out the garbage, how many beers they can fetch for daddy and then being quiet when daddy has one of his “morning headaches”.
I don’t know how well it will go over with Emma or if it will work at all, but I have to give it a try and if Emma doesn’t like it, then I’ll see her in imaginary court.
According to Hofmann is written by staff reporter Mark Hofmann of Rostraver Township. He co-hosts the “Locally Yours” radio show on WMBS 590 AM every Friday. His book, “Stupid Brain,” is available on Amazon.com.