Grandpa the Imaginary Friend
Grandma called several weeks ago, “Christine! I found a picture of Grandpa.”
I asked, “Your grandfather or mine?”
“Yours,” she said, “My ex-husband. Oh, he used to be good looking. I see why I fell for him… Okay, so you come get this picture so I stop looking at him.”
Right.
DD and I drive down there and have lunch with her. The photo is nice, black and white, taken in 1940s France. It looks very serious, like it belongs with a press pass, or passport dossier. DD is fascinated. But we forget it anyway. Two weeks later we returned. This time Grandma brought the photo down to the car. DD immediately took custody of it. Grandma had it wrapped in wrapping tissue held fast with giant rubberbands. That is no match for a preschooler.
On the way home DD said, “Maman, tell me again who is this man.”
I tell her that is her great-grandfather. She’s four and has never met him.
When we got home the picture was missing and I asked her what did she do with Grandpa. She said, “He’s in my room. I like him.”
Now she talks to him like she does her dolls and stuffed animals and carries him around the house. He’s her new imaginary friend.
Today Grandpa rode to ballet with us, and Ballerina Bunny and Jolie (the bilingual doll). Earlier in the week the three of them accompanied us to the grocery and he rode in the buggy with her. I imagine that looked a little weird to other customers.
