The things that will never make it in the baby books and other musings from a stay at home mom

Tuesday, May 30, 2006

A goo goo goo, a ga ga ga (is all I want to say to you)

I've been trying to write this entry for a while now because it's the kind of thing that I know I'll want to remember some day, but I can't seem to get it to come out right. It's just too odd a story, and it doesn't translate well to the computer screen. Hell, I'm not sure it translates, period. You see, first, there was Gofo, the naughty penguin who tried to lead Julia down the road to misbehavior. And now, there is Googagaga.

Our household's new resident is the product of Evan's imagination, and he lives primarily in our basement, though one can never say when he will pop out of there for a quick visit. Every time he arrives, he makes Evan cry. In fact, I am told that it is Googagaga who is responsible for all of my son's tears these days, especially the kind that come unbidden during the middle of the night. "Googagaga made me cry," he explains every time. It is apparently no longer ever Evan's fault if he has a tantrum or is cranky or is having trouble sleeping. Mean old Googagaga is to blame for all of it.

Occasionally, Googagaga will make a cameo appearance at a lighter moment, but his primary role seems to be torturing Evan. "He gets me in the morning and in the afternoon and in the evening and underneath the moon," Evan often reports with a worried expression on his face. It would be much cuter to hear him paraphrase one of his favorite songs in this way if the child weren't so clearly distressed. He keeps a careful watch out for Googagaga and asks me frequently whether Googagaga is still down the basement where he belongs. Occasionally, Julia will suggest locking him in the attic for extra security, but that never lasts too long. Googagaga always reappears, seeking out the tearful child who created him.

Other people's children have imaginary friends that are, I don't know, friendly? But my kids apparently didn't need their pretend acquaintances to act as cheerful playmates or trustworthy confidants. There is no sharing a cup of tea or initiating a friendly chat with an imaginary friend around here. Instead, my daughter has a naughty peacock named Gofo who tries to get her into trouble and now my son has this equally oddly named creature who is out to get him. How am I supposed to write about this stuff without sounding as crazy as my kids do?


At 7:43 PM, Blogger Kristy said...

If it wasn't accompanied by an image of a rather tortured Evan, this would be priceless. As it is? It's actually pretty heart wrenching. Why can't there be nothing short of bliss for a two and a half year old? Why can't we moms make the Googagaga go away?

At 9:18 PM, Blogger Steph said...

Aw, poor Evan. Kristy's right, at two and a half, life should be pure bliss. He shouldn't have to worry about a Googagaga lurking around the corner. :(

As far as I know, J doesn't have an imaginary friend yet, but M's used to get into all sorts of trouble. (and still does from time to time)

At 12:27 AM, Anonymous chelle said...

awww that just sucks! Fear is going to be in their lives and does show healthy development. Oh the things I have to look forward to! No advise just sending you all a big hug!

At 6:10 PM, Blogger Rosemary said...

I'm just flabbergasted. Having no experience, I feel for your dilemna but am completely flummoxed as to how a parent should respond.


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