I'll admit it. While I was growing up, I never had an imaginary friend. My creative streak never quite touched that particular plane. Certainly, I had special drummed-up scenarios I created for myself. Often, I was someone else. But making up another character to join me in these adventures? Not really. Gouda has always been something of a loner at heart.
The tradition of non-imaginary-friend-ism continued with my daughter. We seemed identical in this regard in that we would form attachments to physical objects like dolls or stuffed animals, but having a 9-foot tall purple wildebeast who had to be set a separate place at the table? Again, not so much. My son, on the other hand, has decided to embark upon the quest of creating an invisible playmate. This person rides in our car and apparently accompanies Elias to preschool. According to my son, this person has brown hair, light brown skin, brown eyes, and pink lips. And the person's name?
That's right. Explodie. He apparently got that name because he explodes when he gets mad.
So yeah, my son's imaginary friend is an Islamo-terrorist. I want to ask Elias if Explodie is wearing a bulky-looking vest or whether Explodie has a middle name like "al" or "bin." Of course, I should probably keep this information on the down low. I'd really hate for my 4-year-old to end up on a No Fly List or having to take a trip down to Gitmo for his association with terrorists.
Right now, I'm going to keep a close eye on this Explodie character. I don't want to be reactionary. Maybe Explodie is trying to turn over a new leaf by inserting himself into a family of infidels. But if Elias starts asking when he is going to get his 72 virgins or growing a long beard, I might have to call Homeland Security myself. I have to do my part to keep America safe.