Joe

My child has an imaginary friend. Now, before you go all therapist on me, stating she only has said “friend” because she is, thus far, an only child and she is creating a sibling for herself, I will tell you to shut it. I had two brothers and an imaginary friend named Bobby who lived in my mouth. I distinctly remember sitting on the floor by the heat register talking to him. So, even having two siblings I did not choose, I wanted something else. Point being, we don’t get to pick and even if we could, it doesn’t always work out the way we want. If we are going to psycho-analyze this shit, I clearly wanted different brothers. I wanted siblings who were normal and did not pull the head off my Barbie. Nothing weird here, move along, people, move along.

So, Bird’s buddy, Joe is constantly a subject in our home. I haven’t squashed her imagination by telling her that he doesn’t actually exist. She is happy. She likes him. They play nicely together. Sometimes they run around the living room together. Besides, I know full-blown adults with more troublesome delusions than a faux friend and nobody is telling them the “truth.” If they can carry on, so can Bird. I am not going to ruin this one for her.

We never know when Joe is around or not. He leaves. He comes back. He goes to work! I like this! She is befriending functional members of society! He used to work at Walmart. Now, he works at Nino’s (a local higher-end grocery store). One could say Joe is moving up in the world, climbing the career ladder, if you will. He probably makes way more money at Nino’s. Actually, that’s not true because it turns out he does not get paid in cash. Rather, they pay him it meat. Of course! Work for eight hours, take home tenderloin! Genius. I wonder if he sells his meat on the black market?

What else have we learned about Joe? He has a ponytail. I don’t like this. I am frowning on her befriending boys with long hair. This style is out. I hope he’s not a delinquent. If he has tattoos and piercings we are out. OMG. What if he trades the meat for drugs?

But seriously, where in the hell did this come from? Last weekend, Bird was with my mom. She said something my mom couldn’t make out. When questioned as to what she said, her response was, “I wasn’t talking to you, I was talking to Joe.” Oh! Of course you are! Excuse the bleep out of me.