“I’m baby flower picture book horsey.”
“Yes dear. Good night baby flower picture book horsey!”
This is one of our current streams of good nights with my princess. The name after “baby flower” changes every night. I’m not sure if its possible for her to be more cute. This is a girl with a rather unrivalled imagination. She currently has a menagerie of invisible friends, including two rabbits, a baby foal, a naughty goat and a stream of casuals who come and go. She herself can be herself or any one of these characters at a point in time. Woe betide the parent who incorrectly recognises who she is just then.
Its things like this that make parenting the mysterious wonder it is. I didn’t have imaginary friends, not a nonce. I may have played in a myriad of made up worlds, but always either on my own or with friends. Yet to princess her friends are very real. We get told regularly what they’ve been up to over at her treehouse (she even knows exactly where that is, not that any of us are allowed to visit, that might ruin its existance).
Some mysteries are just meant to be enjoyed. So I play along, ask how the menagerie is doing, make up a few stories of my own, and she and I get along just fine. I had air tea, a piece of wood pizza and plastic carrots laid out for me this morning (by baby foal). All part and parcel normal for a girl of almost four.