The Mostly True Adventures of Scary Moose

Samuel has an imaginary friend. Peter and I can’t recall exactly how old Samuel was when his buddy entered our lives, but we remember how it happened. Over the treat bucket one evening after dinner, we think Samuel was just around 2, Samuel tells Peter that “Scary Moose wants some daddy candy too.” Peter looks at me, I look at him and we both lift our eyebrows. Who is Scary Moose? Instantly, recollections of a movie called The Sixth Sense pop into our brains and we hear a little boy whisper, “I see dead people.” After Peter and I give each other a sideways glance that says “FREAKY!” we proceed to ask exactly who Scary Moose is. A few moments later, we deduct that Samuel has developed an imaginary friend, named Scary Moose of all things. Not Fifi Bunny or Timmy the Mouse. Really, truly, his name is Scary Moose. Over the last two years, we’ve learned a lot about this friend, and he is indeed, very friendly. He’s also well behaved, has a mommy and daddy, and listens to directions much better than Samuel does.

Initially, based on what I thought I knew about imaginary friends, I couldn’t help question, what have we done wrong? Is he emotionally maladjusted? Socially deprived? Having a hard time with transitions? Research into imaginary friends, however, indicates it is actually quite positive. Studies show that children with imaginary friends are usually extraverts, pretty well adjusted socially, very creative, think it is just good fun to have one, often idolize them, and explore new adventures with them. Overall, the concept of an imaginary friend is very encouraging. Thank the stars and moon, our son doesn’t see dead people (that we know of anyway).

What’s also interesting about Scary Moose, is that when Ethan grasped the concept of Scary Moose somewhere in his second year, he adopted him too. Both our boys share this pal, and the three of them often play games. They’ve hunted dinosaurs, trapped spiders, raced cars, rode horses and flown to outer space together. They both talk to Scary Moose, and seem to have a positive relationship with their furry friend. Scary Moose likes to travel, he eats excessive amounts of pasta, his favorite color is black, and he always holds his mother’s hand when he crosses the street. He lives at our house, shares a bedroom with Samuel and Ethan and sleeps on Samuel’s bed. I can’t help but think how uncomfortable bedtime is for Samuel with all his toys he refuses to sleep without and Scary Moose to boot. Ethan says to me the other day, “Mommy, Scary Moose gets to fly on airplanes. When we fly on airplanes?” And about a month ago, Ethan and Samuel had to save Scary Moose from the terrible lizard that inhabited our basement. They proceeded to trap the terrible lizard and free Scary Moose.

We try not to engage Scary Moose too much from the adult perspective, because after all, he is pretend and Ethan and Samuel grasp reality. However, just out of curiosity one day, we asked a couple of questions about what Scary Moose looked like. Ethan seemed full of contradictory answers, but Samuel proceeded to describe his big head and upright posture consistently. We figured he was a human being with an overgrown head and lanky figure. But no, none of our images fit the bill when we tried to illustrate the guy. Then one day I was flipping through old cartoons on Netflix to find new entertainment for the boys and Samuel, who was peeking over my shoulder, exclaims, “Look mommy, that’s a picture of Scary Moose!” You wouldn’t believe it, but it was reruns of Rocky and Bullwinkle. Loading this into our Instant Queue, we watched the cartoon and Samuel couldn’t believe there was an entire movie about Scary Moose! Now we had an image, he looks just like Bullwinkle.

Scary Moose has never been blamed for bad behavior, but is often used to negotiate why the boys should be able to do something that haven’t allowed. Just the other day, while we were at my parents’ house, the boys wanted to run out and see the horses. I told them no, that they’d have to wait because I was feeding the babies, grandma was cleaning rooms for her B&B guests, and Papa wasn’t home from work yet. Samuel insists, “But Scary Moose’s mommy is holding his hand and taking him out to see the horses.” I say, “Yes, but Scary Moose’s mommy doesn’t have two babies to take care of right now.” Samuel says, “That’s because Scary Moose’s baby sister is still in his mommy’s belly.” Ohh! Of course.

Recently I was a bit saddened that we’d lose Scary Moose. My grandmother was in the hospital in Sheridan and we went for a visit and to introduce her to the twins. Scary Moose rode along for this three hour, one way, sojourn. After our visit at the hospital with my grandmother, Samuel whispers then says to me, “Mommy, Scary Moose wants to stay here at the hospital.” I responded, “You better tell Scary Moose that if he wants to stay here, it is a very long way back to the Rossi House and I’m not driving back to get him.” Samuel literally steps aside, has a whispered conversation and then reports back to me, “Scary Moose has decided to come home with us.” And so the adventures continue.

Funny how I had a little pinch in my heart that Scary Moose might leave us. I’d miss him, truly. He leaves me in giggles and provides great entertainment for my sons. And with that, I’ll leave you with a poem written by Robert Louis Stevenson, who himself had many imaginary friends as a child.

Stevenson, Robert Louis (1850–1894). A Child’s Garden of Verses and Underwoods. 1913.

The Unseen Playmate

WHEN children are playing alone on the green,
In comes the playmate that never was seen.
When children are happy and lonely and good,
The Friend of the Children comes out of the wood.

Nobody heard him and nobody saw,
His is a picture you never could draw,
But he’s sure to be present, abroad or at home,
When children are happy and playing alone.

He lies in the laurels, he runs on the grass,
He sings when you tinkle the musical glass;
Whene’er you are happy and cannot tell why,
The Friend of the Children is sure to be by!

He loves to be little, he hates to be big,
’Tis he that inhabits the caves that you dig;
’Tis he when you play with your soldiers of tin
That sides with the Frenchman and never can win.

’Tis he, when at night you go off to your bed,
Bids you go to your sleep and not trouble your head;
For wherever they’re lying, in cupboard or shelf,
’Tis he will take care of your playthings himself!