My wonderfully creative children have developed some very detailed stories of their imaginary friends. Their imaginary friends join them on the occasions when Tabby Cat and Baby Oliver stop being cats and turn into people. My daughter becomes "mom" to my son (which in turn leaves me to be "grandma"). Yes, my son very frequently refers to me as Grandma. They have blue friend dog, pink friend dog, yellow friend dog... a new color of dog for each new story they tell.
A few months ago my daughter added her friend "Baby" to her imaginary repertoire. Baby is a 44 year old mother. Baby has lots of kids, but the one we hear about most often is named Angel. Angel has somehow become my daughter's alter-ego. Today I heard a scream in the house. We don't allow screaming in the house so I went to talk to my imaginative darling about it. "Oh that," she quickly responded, "That was Angel screaming. I can't do it in the house, but next time we are at the beach I'll show you how loud Angel can scream." Wow. She is quick. And this is certainly not the first time that little "Angel" has been the culprit behind mischievous behavior. Oh the irony. How did my precious little Tabby Cat choose names like "Baby" for the 44 year old mom and "Angel" for the little girl who gets blamed for every misbehavior.