When my niece was about 4 she had an imaginary friend, which I don’t remember the name of. She would blame things she did on this imaginary friend but also talked about how this friend would watch scooby doo with her. One day I thought, why don’t I find out more about this friend. So I asked her to tell me about her friend. And she said, “she’s a she and she’s dead.” And I said okay, “does she have a job?” And she said, “she does what my daddy does!” Which is that her imaginary friend was a cop. Okay. So then I said, “where is your imaginary friend a police woman at?” And she said, “right next I to where my daddy is a policeman.” And I said okay. But then she said, “I met her when I was in my mummy’s belly. She touched it when I was inside.”
A few months before my niece was born my cousin Tracy had died. She was hit by a train. She loved watching scooby doo and had a ton of memorabilia. She was also a cop. She was a cop in the town that is right next to the one my brother in law is a cop in, my nieces “daddy.” My niece’s imaginary friend was my dead cousin. There is no other way she could have known all that at the age of 4.
When my kid was 4, we were watching a docu on the Titanic. The scene was a picture of the schematics of the boiler room and the camera panned from left to right over the plans. He pointed at the tv and said, “That’s wrong. The boilers were on the Other side. And I was right here.” And he pointed to a small space in the boiler room. “That’s where I was. And that’s why I don’t like water now.”