I’m terrified of my three-year-old son’s imaginary friend, “Toots.” It seems harmless, but what if this character is actually a dead gangster from the 20s?

Being a parent opens you up to a plethora of irrational fears. Almost whole parts of my brain are taken over by these scenarios or heightened concerns. But one that stood out to me once it came up terrifies me as much as it makes me laugh. Okay, here it goes.

I am petrified by my three-year-old son’s imaginary friend “Toots.” Sure, it sounds harmless and in all likelihood is, but what about that small, absolutely tiny chance that this Toots character isn’t just made up in his head, and is in actuality a 1920s gangster, who after being gunned down in a mob-hit, has decided to haunt our two-bedroom apartment?

Some days, I spend a lot of time imagining what this guy must have been like. Also, I’m never sure if he really died from a hail of gunfire, or if he got the concrete shoe treatment and his skeleton is sunk down somewhere in the Pacific Ocean off coast. Was he a rotten guy? Or could he have been one of those misguided youths who just took to the wrong crowd and got caught up in the glitz and glamor of his age.

Now, on the surface, there’s not much to go by here. But the more I think about why I think this could be the case, the more my brain goes back to the film Heart and Soul (Ron Underwood, 1993). First off, I’ve not watched this movie in probably over 25 years or so. And even then, I probably saw it once in passing and still it sticks with me. It’s queued up now, so I’m going to give it a watch before finishing this, but I wanted to write a bit while my point of reference of this movie is from the mindset of a young and easily impressionable me. From what I can remember, and mostly that is the first act of this movie, is a bunch of people die, and their souls get enjoined with a newborn baby who is born on the same night as their death. That’s it. That is the whole basis of a real and crippling adult fear I now have.

If you’re still with me on this, I think it is good to get to the reasons I am so weirded out. First when Toots came around, it was just the small things my kid would say like “I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to Toots.” Okay. Not too bad, but weird. Then he started in with things like “Toots told me when I was a baby, I would do…” and then I got freaked out because Toots was always on the money. A lot of the times I was easily able to brush it off because we being the modern family that we are, have thousands of photos of this kid. So, chances are his “Toots says” were more than likely just looking at those photos as they came up on the screen.

…the first act of this movie, is a bunch of people die, and their souls get enjoined with a newborn baby who is born on the same night as their death. That’s it. That is the whole basis of a real and crippling adult fear I now have.

Lately, and the thing that really started to get to me, was he started telling me the stuff Toots like to do for fun. For instance, the kid tells me “Toots likes to put your pajamas on and sleep in your bed.” A rational parent would smile and nod. But oh no, not me, I’m on the edge of my seat and I start the interrogation. “What else does he do?” To which I get an evasive answer about how “Toots is a busy guy.” So, I’m on my heels walking around thinking about this Toots guy. On days when I’m really on this kid’s back about not eating or leaving yogurt wrappers on the floor, he’ll turn to me and tell me “Toots says I don’t have to do it.” Like this ghost is sitting there telling my kid, “Don’t take no guff from nobody kid. Especially not your old man!”. But eventually we work it out and he picks up the damn wrapper. Still, anytime I would try and tell him something, it would be the same old song and dance about how “Well, Toots says…”

After a while, I’m used to Toots. He’s there, he seems like he’s cleaned up his act, and my kid isn’t hatching any plots to avenge the death of this mobster. Then, here comes a new one: Bebe. Bebe, the kid tells me is friends with Toots. “Where did they come from?” to which I get a reply “They’ve always been there.” Cryptic. Kids at this age can be either super-adorable or sometimes cryptic in a way that I’m never prepared for. Once this kid looked at his mom and said, “I’ll always remember you.” Like, when the revolution starts and I’m ruler of the known universe, I won’t forget the little people. Ha!

So, now we got Toots and this Bebe character who I am already imagining as the cocktail waitress that got pulled into Toots’ crazy life right before the tragic end of it, and the two of them are just sitting here with us all day telling this kid all of the wiseguy wisdom they know. At least, that’s how I remember it in the movie. When the baby is really small and a toddler, all the souls could talk to him and since there were like four or five of these things, you’d get a wide range of council from these unfortunate apparitions.

I’m going to sit down and try and watch the film. I’m sure it won’t hold up and by watching it I’ll probably demystify the magic that I’ve had for it all these years. Movies from the early 90s always do that to me. In my memory, they exist as perfectly fine stories, but once I rewatch them, they’re almost always disjointed messes. I can almost recall where I was and who I was at the time I first watched it, but that memory remains just out of reach.

Are all imaginary friends lost souls of the afterlife? As much as it scares me, I’d almost prefer it to be that way. Of course, the more likely thing is my kid’s budding imagination is working as it should and creating some fun characters to play along with.

Me, I never had any imaginary friends. When you’re raised in an evangelical household, all imaginary friends are either demons or angels. So instead of Heart and Souls it is more like that super-messed up part in Ghost (Jerry Zucker, 1990) where Tony Goldwyn’s character gets dragged to hell. Maybe that’s why I don’t look at the fun part of having an imaginary friend. Giving my kid a life free of that fear has fostered some pretty cool new ideas for him and even if I’m still a little weary of Toots and Bebe and whoever is coming next, I’m glad he can express himself and have fun. But Toots better stay the hell out of my bed if that no-good schmuck knows what’s good for him!