Chickens at the Park

Today he played with imaginary friends for the first extended period of time. He claimed that a baby chicken, a "children"chicken, and a brother chicken came to the park with us. I had to push them in the swing, and he held their hands as they walked along the small rock wall and jumped down. They then rode on the back of the tricycle home and were soon forgotten.
I wish my imaginary friends were organizing the preschool's cleanup on Saturday or were writing a chapter comparing the reception of Islam in various European countries. Or they could do the dishes for me and then organize my office. But really I wish I had a non-imaginary person to do those things for me while I read books and the newspaper and drank cups of half-caf or spent time at the park playing with chickens.