Dear Woman with the God-Complex,

I was sitting on the bus late this afternoon when you and your daughter got on. She is perhaps four years old and had her curly hair tied back with neatly curled ribbons and she had a matching dress, white knee socks, shiny black shoes and a matching rain poncho. I couldn't help but think that perhaps you had chosen her outfit out for her. Which probably isn't very far off it's mark as your outfit just happened to be all black while her main colour was baby pink.

She was sitting there, legs crossed just like her mommy and about every five seconds you would lean over and touch your hand to the small of her back and she would sit straighter, like someone had put a straight bar of iron behind her and told her to make sure her entire back was touching it. You scolded her when she reached to touch her hand to the window, telling her that was it was very dirty and that she wasn't allowed to touch it. She pouted and you scolded her some more, threatening to take away her toys at home. With that comment, she pouted some more and wanted to know when the two of you would be home.

You just look down at her and bite out the word 'soon' and go back to reading today's paper. I was appalled by your behavior, certainly. But far be it for me to judge your parenting skills. And despite the fact that I really wanted to say something, I kept my mouth shut.

Then your daughter proceeded to tell you about what 'Al' had just told her. From what I could gather, Al was your daughter's (imaginary) friend. But you kept on telling her that Al was just made up and that he wasn't really there, that he didn't existed. you told her to stop making up stories, that Al wasn't really there and if he was, he would tell you to stop making up stories.

I watched your daughter cross her arms, her eyes get watery and then she protested. I was nearly going to start applauding her for standing up for herself.

"But Mommy, Al is real! He's sitting right there!"

She points to a seemingly empty seat and start telling you that Al is making funny faces and blowing a raspberry, she demonstrates. And you get angry at her for 'acting out' and 'trying to get attention'.

At the next stop you two get off and she starts pulling at your arm to stop you from leaving because Al wasn't up from his seat yet. And then you just pick her up around her waist and take her off the bus, and as the bus is pulling away, she's screaming for Al because you'd left him on the bus with a 'bunch of strangers'.

That little girl probably wasn't even in kindergarten yet and all she wanted was you to wait possibly five seconds for Al to catch up and you just picked her up and took her off the bus without regarding her feelings. And when I looked back after hearing her screaming for him? You just continued walking with her looking over your shoulder, arms stretched out, mouth open in mid-scream.

When I was four, because my older siblings were so much older than I was, and I hadn't started school yet, I had my fair share of imaginary friends too. The neighborhood that I lived in didn't have that many children close to my age (and still doesn't). My parents probably did think that it was weird, but they never questioned it. They just played along, occasionally going as far as addressing my imaginary friends only for me to to go 'they aren't over there, mom, they're here'. To a child who has no siblings close to their own age or neighborhood children to play with, an imaginary friend or (mostly in my case, being Collie - a polar bear) a stuffed animal (that only comes to life with the Grown Ups aren't around) is basically all they really have in terms of someone to play with. I had tea parties and dress-up games with my stuffed animals. I would build forts out of the couch cushions and set up specific stuffies to be my 'tower guards' and the other ones would all get their own respective roles.

I hope you open the door someday this week only to have your daughter dance around the room and go 'Al's back, Mommy, he's back!'. Because your daughter needs someone to spend time with other than a maternal figure who couldn't wait for her friend to get off the bus too or a maternal figure who doesn't let her child exercise her creativity to its maximum potential.

Al should meet Collie one day, I think they would get along well.