I sighed. I was going to have to crawl under L.’s bed.

Though L. is 3.5, I still use a “baby” monitor in his room. Between the white noise machine (yes, I’m a believer in white noise machines), closed doors, and the distance between our bedrooms, I can’t hear a thing from L.’s room at night. And I have him convinced that he is not allowed to wander the house after bedtime, under any circumstances.

So if he is sick, or falls out of bed, or has to use the bathroom, he’ll just sit in his room and call me. Repeatedly. Until I come. Or until he feels completely abandoned and breaks out in tears. Thus: the continued need for a monitor.

And on this particular night, it appeared that the monitor had mysteriously been turned off at some point during the day, causing the receivers to let out an annoying BEEP-BEEP-BEEP as they expressed their confusion over not finding a signal.

Which meant that I’d have to crawl under L.’s bed (where I had mistakenly thought the monitor would be safe from little fingers) to turn it back on.

As I slowly and clumsily extricated myself from the cramped quarters of Under L.’s Bed, I found him watching me with curiosity.

“What are you doing, Mommy?”

“I’m turning your monitor back on. It seems that somebody crawled under there and turned it off earlier today.”

“Hmm,” he said. “Well, I didn’t do it.”

“Oh no? Then who did?”

“Um…Ed. Ed did it.”

And so it begins.

A few weeks ago, L. summoned me to his room and announced, “Mom — meet Ed the Pillow!”

Yes, he had named his pillow Ed.

Aw, I thought. How cute. His first imaginary friend. And it’s a pillow.

But apparently, one imaginary friend was not nearly enough. Ed the Pillow was just the beginning.

Since that time, I’ve been introduced to Ed (who is no longer a pillow), Dave & Dave, Timdy (my favorite name that L. came up with), Tall Guy, Millie, Girly, and a handful of other friends who seem to come and go. Let me tell you, it’s hard to keep track of all the new additions to our family.

Especially when I can’t see them.

Which isn’t to say they’re not around much.

Oh, no. They are around all. the. time.

I’ve had to prepare lunch for Dave (fortunately, L. accepted a bowl full of “invisible fruit” as a suitable meal for Dave). I’m repeatedly asked to say “Hi” to Timdy or Tall Guy when they — unbeknownst to me — enter the room. Ed rides in the back seat of our car. Girly is a good artist.

And now, clearly, Ed is getting into mischief by turning off the monitor when I’m not looking. Or maybe when I am looking — who knows? I can’t see him anyway.

L. comes by his hoard of imaginary friends quite honestly. I remember having a slew of “friends” when I was about four — friends that no one else could see, but whom I knew well. The names have faded (I vaguely remember there was a Lucy), but I remember talking to them — quietly of course — after I was tucked in bed for the night.

Experts assure us that the presence of imaginary friends is not cause for alarm. Often, it’s simply a sign of creativity. And imaginary friends can sometimes help kids better process the in’s and out’s of everyday life.

So I suppose I don’t mind if Ed and Dave and Dave and Tall Guy and Timdy and all the others hang around for a while.

As long as I don’t have to cook them too many meals.

And as long as Ed keeps his promise to me that he won’t turn off the monitor any more.