I wasn’t there the day Marco Mints came into our lives. The Wife says he just popped into existence while the kids were getting haircuts. He acted as if he had always been around and maybe he always had. It’s hard to know.
It’s also hard to know when he is here. You see, we never actually know if he is here or not until he announces, quite matter-of-factly, “I’m Marco Mints.” Then it’s, oh, I guess Marco Mints is here. What’s he going to do this time? Play a few rounds of Just Dance before assuming he is invited to stay for dinner? Probably.
We never see him leave, either. Though I am certain there are times he is gone. I think so, anyway.
Recently, however, that thought has been called into doubt. He has been telling us that he will only be staying for a few more days. Then he has to fly back home.
Staying? You mean he has been staying here? So, even during the times I thought he was gone, he was actually here somewhere?
Though that would make sense with how he can just appear and disappear without any of us noticing him using the front door.
The kicker in the weird department? Marco Mints has is own theme song. True story.
His name is Marco.S’s Daddy
And his dance moves
will make you wince.
‘Cause he’s so good,
and you’re so jelly.
He learned them all
by playing Just Dance
on the telly.
Snuffleupaguses … Snuffleupagusi?
Those of you who, like me, are the finer wines sitting on the shelf will remember the time when no one on Sesame Street ever saw Snuffy except for Big Bird. The residents of the famed thoroughfare all assumed Snuffleupagus was Big Bird’s imaginary friend.
I preferred it that way. It came with more mystery. Once everyone could see Snuffy, he was just another character on the mean streets of Sesame.
And don’t even get me started on when that presumptuous prick Elmo showed up on the scene. This is Ernie’s street, butt-munch. Ernie’s!
I don’t remember having an imaginary friend as a child. I do remember standing in front of a mirror trying to invent an imaginary friend because that’s what kids were supposed to do, right? I could never buy into the ruse, however. Being responsible for someone else’s existence seemed exhausting.
My sister had an imaginary friend named Bambi Farley who, in a straight-up horror movie plot style, would appear to her in store mirrors. My brother had a gang of miniature inch-tall imaginaries called The Boys.
It’s Not Multiple Personality Disorder, It’s Cute
My youngest, however, has decided to take this all in a different direction. He doesn’t have an imaginary friend, but rather an imaginary persona that he inhabits at random times whose name, as you may have guessed, is Marco Mints.
Now, The Wife and her older boys were present for the first appearance of Marco Mints whilst getting haircuts. So when I first encountered him, they were all well acquainted, making me feel like this was a long-running plot that I had been dropped into the middle of.
Some of my kids recently visited and got to meet Marco Mints. As they were here, we used plastic cups with our names written on them to save us from too much dish washing. Marco Mints, of course, needed his own cup. This prompted a family-wide battle about the spelling of Marco’s last name, because you may not know this, but four-year-olds aren’t the best at articulation.
I originally voted for MINCE. The Wife wanted MINTZ. We were outvoted and have landed on MINTS.
You all should meet Marco Mints. He is quite the cool little kid. He looks a lot like S. and they blame each other for everything.