“Would you care to explain this?” I asked Lil’ K. who was hiding behind the center island.
“Wee-eee-lll,” she drawled, “Ya seeeeeee…I was eating my cookies.”
“And I was drinking my milk,” she continued.
“Then what?” I asked.
“I heard a sound like thunder,” Lil’ K. lowered her voice, and thunder rumbled distantly outside. “Like that!”
“How did this mess happen?” I asked.
“Peter Pan came flying in here because Captain Hook was chasing him and firing his cannons at him. They spilled my milk and knocked my cookies in the floor,” she said. “Mr. Smee wouldn’t clean it up, and here I am. In twubble ‘cause Captain Hook is tearing up the kitchen again.”
Three truths followed by the old imaginary friends excuse has become more common since Lil’ K. turned four. The other day, Jake and the Neverland Pirates stole her younger brother’s favorite tractor and hid it. I turned the house upside down looking for the damn thing so Lil’ P. would stop screaming. I found the toy in the refrigerator by some cheese. Lil’ K.’s cries replaced those of Lil’ P. when she found she’d have to serve time-out on Jake’s behalf.
“If you can’t keep your imaginary friends under control, you’ll have to do the time for their crimes,” I told her.
The other day, Lil’ K. came running up and informed me that her imaginary friends, Dorothy and Daisy were saying mean things to her.
“And you want me to…?” I asked. Everyone always told me that boys are easier. Apparently, this is true. My girl is starting drama with friends that aren’t even real.
“Make them stop,” she told me.
“Quit saying mean things,” I firmly told the air.
“Thanks, Mama,” Lil’ K. gave me a hug. “You’re the best.”