Sitting with my daughter this morning, watching the Macy's Parade, on comes a float called something like "Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends."
Charlotte turns to me and says, quite softly, "I have an imaginary friend."
"You do?" I said. "I didn't know that."
"Ben is my imaginary friend. Our baby that died."
"Is he your imaginary friend, too, Mommy?"
"Well, yes, honey, I suppose he is."