We’re back. Spent the week in far away places with so many imaginary friends, we could fill a coliseum. What do you do when the person you’re caring for is bothered by the infringement of his privacy because of his grown children crawling around his house as babies tinkering with the phone cords and television cables? If you’re me, you ask how long have they been doing this? Is everything working better now, and how do I go about hiring them for my own home repairs? Honestly, I could use all the help available, and hey, imaginary children can’t cost nearly as much as licensed professionals.
Then, we went to a ballgame with the Cosby clan. Apparently the Angels won the game. I wonder how many letters Bill Cosby gets thanking him for his kindness, and where he finds the time to hang out with all the people that remember him as Mr. Huxtable. I really could use some time management tips.
The great part in all of this. Somehow I intuitively did what the professionals get paid the big bucks to teach people. I guess all my years of constant daydreaming as a child have finally been found useful. Won’t my mom feel bad about all the times she told me I just needed to apply myself and STOP the daydreaming. I can tell her I was in training for the future.
I’m thinking today maybe to bring him and all of his imaginary friends over. I have a difficult time with clutter building up, and am trying to get the house in order for him to move back home with us. I can either single handedly tackle two bedrooms belonging to young boys that don’t understand that in the civilized world people expect to see a floor, not just blindly walk through a foot of whatever could happen to be in the path, or I can use the help of at least five imaginary children as well as a few adults. That should help me keep the youngsters focused on the task at hand.
I can’t seem to find a way to welcome him to our reality, so I might as well make the best of his. So far the hallucinations seem to frustrate him more than frighten him, so I might as well just kick back and enjoy his game of make believe for awhile. Luckily my inner child is hyperactive, and could use a bit of play time.
