imaginary friends

"And then my 3-year-old daughter managed to do what I never could -- she made an imaginary friend.

At first I was jealous. I mean my daughter is awesome and everything, but what's so special about her that she lands the imaginary friend I always wanted? And we're not talking just a tall rabbit, either. Her imaginary friend has purple hair and a private jet and goes by the groovy handle, "Mr. Girl."

When I was 3, I couldn't even have imagined anyone that cool.

I started asking my daughter questions about her.

"How old is Mr. Girl?" I asked.

"Twenty-four," my daughter said without hesitation.

"Where does she live?" I asked.

"In a purple house."

"What do you guys like to do together?" I asked.

"We fly around on her airplane," my daughter said with a shrug. "And we eat chocolate."

I want to be friends with Mr. Girl.

My daughter lords her over me. She talks to Mr. Girl on her plastic cell phone right in front of me, which is so rude. If I tell her she can't have cheddar bunnies for breakfast, she tells me she and Mr. Girl eat cheddar bunnies for breakfast all the time. If I tell her it's time for a nap, she tells me that she and Mr. Girl never take naps."

Jennifer found this essay by Chelsea Cain in the Oregonian. Print by This is All I Know on Etsy.