Imaginary Friends and Time Out

They even entertain me in their sleep

George has too much fun when he goes to time out. He enjoys it so much, he purposely behaves badly, and smiles at me saying, "Time out!" When he does this as I am doing the dishes, I wrangle him from whatever reckless activity he is doing, and plop him in his crib. He laughs at me smiling, and I say, "Your in time out. Don't climb on the table, you could fall off and hurt yourself." Then he sits down chuckling and begins singing a song.
I chuckle to myself, thinking, "Ha ha, George! Now I can get the dishes done without you trying to climb into the sink, or into the dishwasher, or find a dangerous utensil to steal and run away with." In the couple minutes he sits in his crib, I finish the dishes and sweep the floor. Then I look at Kiki and say, "Should we go get your brother?"
She answers, "No. Lets leave him in time out." But then I convince her to run down the hall to his room where we begin our end-of-time-out-talk.
It goes like this, "George, I love you, but you needed a time out because you climbed on top of the table and that is not allowed because you could fall and hurt yourself."
He stands in the crib, with his cheek resting on his hand, looking lovingly at me with sparkling eyes and a big smile on his face.
Kiki was never able to sit in time out isolation in her crib, she would have hyperventilated. Even now, if I mention time out, she immediately drops whatever she is doing and breaks down into a sopping mess of tears repeating, "I don't want to go to time out."
She moves onto another activity, and lately it involves her and her two pals, Pink and Iowa. Pink and Iowa are her imaginary friends. She has had them for a while now, Pink was here first and Iowa came along shortly after. I am bewildered and amazed when she tells me about the adventures her and her friends go on.
Since I am the middle of 5 children, I doubt I had imaginary friends. I was much more likely to imagine myself as an only child. As an adult, my brothers and sisters have filled in the void for real life friends. A lucky coincidence for an introvert.
Now, I meet up with my imaginary friends trolling the internet. I had to stop using Facebook because it is a bit too friendly. I don't need the deep human connection of long diatribes or photo albums, but 140 characters seems plenty enough to satiate any longing for bonds.
I get carried away online, as if trying to be caught. My solitude dissolves through delusions I manifest by reading 140 characters. Like a peeping tom, except I took it a step further by breaking the virtual window and sniffing the pantise in the dresser drawer. My hankerings to go investigate online are urges that come on like the craving of a cigarette.
Peek in the windows of people who belong in the past and speculate; a grand reimmagining.
A time out from my imaginary friends is happily welcome; I have plenty of fun watching Kiki play with her pretend friends, and giving George his I-love-you-but-you-need-a-time-out talk.

I entertain myself when they sleep and I drive around drinking diet coke looking at houses