Lost Posts # 1: Document Created 15th January 2007, 11.17pm.
“Pimpy Says I Am ‘Tend.”
..........................................................................................................................................................................
And that’s all I have. Not a 'post' obviously, but a forgotten idea for one.
Casting my mind back, I recall that my daughter – probably about three years old at the time – had a number of imaginary friends. She was an only child at the time.
One was the improbably named Pimpy – I still don’t know – the other was the more domesticated Sock. They shared a common impediment of unfeasibly-long Tim Burton-esque arms in her pictures but were indistinquishable otherwise.
I got the distinct impression they didn’t see eye-to-eye but as they were imaginary it wasn’t a great problem.
Until.
‘Pimpy’ – who I imagined to be a trouble-maker anyway (what’s with the name?) and not the sort of imaginary person a lady of my daughter’s caliber should be consorting with anyway (I didn't like the sound of him at all to be honest) – impishly announced that it was not in fact HE who was ‘tend – pretend - but it was my daughter herself who was imaginary.
I’ve no idea what this single sentence of a silly blog idea was going to go – probably why I didn’t finish it.
Upon announcing this to me I probably glanced over my newspaper of a late morning, hungover, and informed her that ‘Pimpy’ was just being silly and she shouldn’t listen to him.
Her internal narrative had taken an alarmingly meta-textual turn for one so young and so fearsomely intelligent and I’d dismissed it.
She got over it.
..........................................................................................................................................................................
And that’s all I have. Not a 'post' obviously, but a forgotten idea for one.
Casting my mind back, I recall that my daughter – probably about three years old at the time – had a number of imaginary friends. She was an only child at the time.
One was the improbably named Pimpy – I still don’t know – the other was the more domesticated Sock. They shared a common impediment of unfeasibly-long Tim Burton-esque arms in her pictures but were indistinquishable otherwise.
I got the distinct impression they didn’t see eye-to-eye but as they were imaginary it wasn’t a great problem.
Until.
‘Pimpy’ – who I imagined to be a trouble-maker anyway (what’s with the name?) and not the sort of imaginary person a lady of my daughter’s caliber should be consorting with anyway (I didn't like the sound of him at all to be honest) – impishly announced that it was not in fact HE who was ‘tend – pretend - but it was my daughter herself who was imaginary.
I’ve no idea what this single sentence of a silly blog idea was going to go – probably why I didn’t finish it.
Upon announcing this to me I probably glanced over my newspaper of a late morning, hungover, and informed her that ‘Pimpy’ was just being silly and she shouldn’t listen to him.
Her internal narrative had taken an alarmingly meta-textual turn for one so young and so fearsomely intelligent and I’d dismissed it.
She got over it.
posted by Tired Dad at
10:06 pm
8 Comments:
I found a note in the back of an old diary that said 'sex - don't forget'. Then i forgot all about it.
My daughter had three imaginary brothers called Max, Steve and Tops. They all had distinct personalities and quirks. I had to walk through the supermarket holding their hands and she would talk to them like they had special needs. 'Steve! Can you see what a mess you've made? I'm feeling very cross. Now come here and i'll pat your stupid head'.
With hindsight it's a note I probably should have made to myself.
Favourite Daughter's friends thankfully were not flids and were more unruly than anything else.
Anyway. This is an odd trip down Memory Lane and I'll - as promised - stop the minute someone asks me to.
Not yet - it works in well with BC wanting to wrap your head in toilet paper.
Ok then.
Toilet paper?
Look old bean.
Life's a bitch and then you die.
Be there for the kids and be there for yourself.
It isn't all shit you know.
Much is I admit but not all.
I do know this.
Our 5 year old Frankie- also an only child- has two imaginary friends, named Dodder (a boy) and Hattie (a girl). At least he used to. Last time I enquired after Dodder's wellbeing he calmly informed me 'He is imaginary, you know'. It felt like quite a sad little loss of innocence.
J: God that would have been worse. And I know what you mean.
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home