Mousey

            As the oldest child in my family, and the first grandchild on my mother’s side, I enjoyed a plethora of attention in my early childhood. The undivided love and affection of the entire family didn’t last for long though, after two and half years the spot light was ripped from my chubby little fingers the day my little brother was born. Despite my attempts to return the little towhead to the hospital, give him to my neighbors and hide him under the couch; my parents decided to keep him and my life was never the same. My pool of playmates significantly dwindled, Mom was always feeding the baby, grandma took up sewing blankets for him, my aunts carried him around cooing and my dad was in residency and thus never home. I took matters into my own hands and did what every attention starved child does; I made a best friend. 

            

My best friend was Mousey, and I quite literally mean I "made" him. Mousey was imaginary.

            Mousey and I were instantly inseparable. Everywhere I went, Mousey went; everything I did, Mousey did and everything I felt, Mousey felt. Every morning my mom would return from the graveyard shift at the hospital with two cardboard cartons of chocolate milk; One for me, and one for mousey. He was the perfect best friend.  The fact that only I could see him definitely had it's advantages, but there were downsides as well. 

Advantage: Mousey always wanted to play what I wanted to play.

Disadvantage: I had to constantly keep people from sitting on him.

Advantage: Mousey rarely wanted his share of dessert, so he gave it to me.

Disadvantage: Mousey never got in trouble.

Advantage: I could blame things on him anyway

Disadvantage: I still got in trouble.

Advantage: I always had someone to play with

Disadvantage: Nobody else wanted to play with us. 

Advantage: Mousey had special dietary needs, which I naturally adopted. 

Disadvantage: Mousey never got in trouble. 

       If for no other reason, his role as a scape goat kept Mousey around for almost 3 years. 

      

       When I was about five or six I started to go to school. I was so excited, I had as many school supplies as I could find around the house jammed into my little purple backpack and made sure I had duplicates of the essentials, so Mousey didn't have to borrow mine. 

        Unfortunately children are blatantly blunt, comments about my "special friend" came dangerously close to branding me as the weirdy for my elementary career.  Apparently the other kids weren't as accepting of my creative nature as my parents had been. Instead of making new friends for Mousey and I to play with I was taunted by the other children for bringing him to school. The next few days Mousey stayed home, waiting for me to get back from school so we could commence our mischievous activities yet again.

        Soon the time came when I brought my school friends home to play instead, and Mousey didn't get to join in. As my social skills increased, Mousey gradually disappeared. Real friends replaced Mousey, I started to take responsibility for all my own misconduct and he eventually evolved into nothing more than the true story of my childhood creativity; the story you have just read. 

Disclaimer: All of the above depictions and descriptions are of real life events from my own personal memoirs. Any likeness to people real or imagined is entirely intended.