Yesterday, my wife and kids turned the kids’ new bunk beds into a giant blanket fort. My four-year old took me in to show me in the evening. We climbed under the blanket hanging over the head of his bed, and he showed me all the cool features of it.

“It’s got a light,” he said, pointing to the flashlights hanging from the bunk above him, “and this is where we keep our books, and here are our seats.”

They’d piled bean bags at the had of his bed.

“And this,” he continued with a flourish, “this is where my imaginary friend lives.” He pointed to a pouch hanging from one of the bunk bed supports.

“Oh yeah?” I asked.

“Yeah, I call him Stick. You know why?”

“Um, no. Why?”

“Because he looks like a stick.”

“Okay,”

“You know how to draw a stick?” he asked, then made a line in the air with his finger before I could answer. “zzzzooop! That’s how.” He held his finger up again. “See? Zzzzzoooop!”

I laughed. “Yep, that’s how you make a stick.”

“That’s why I have a stick for an imaginary friend,” he said. “Because he’s easy to draw. Just Zzzzooop! and there he is.”

“That’s convenient.”

He nodded. “I know!”

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