When I was little, about 6 or 7, I had an invisible friend. His name was Doo-doo. Yes, Doo-doo. I am admitting this in a public forum. Not only that, but he had a family. His wife was Dee-dee. His son? Doo-dee. And the daughter? Dee-doo. Surely you can see the nomenclative prowess I possessed at such a young age.
Lots of little kids have invisible friends. They’re the ones who stick with us even when we’re the odd one out at recess, or have parents who just don’t understand. They play with us when we’re lonely. They’re a foil, an alter ego, a second medium through which to experience the world. And they’re important, visibility be damned.
But they’re just kidstuff. Right?