Scooby's got game

I've written before about my son's invisible friend, Scooby Doo, and how talking with Scooby organizes him in useful ways, and how listening in on their conversations also often clues me in to school gossip that I'd never get from talking directly to my son. Even though 11 years old is pretty far along to still be having imaginary playmates, we've made our peace with Scooby as an at least developmentally appropriate companion, and his teachers and therapists have as well. So yesterday, when we were bowling as a family, when my son insisted that Scooby wanted to play, too, we went ahead and put the big dog on the scoreboard to fill out a twosome on the bumper lane.

Now here's the weird thing: While my son had a fairly typical game, scoring in the high 80s, Scooby did him way better. When throwing as Scooby, he sent the ball right down the middle of the lane and got spare after spare. How does that work, exactly? We're talking a significant difference in gross motor skills when impersonating a giant invisible dog. His physical therapist always tells my son that Scooby has to wait outside during their sessions, but now I'm thinking -- hey, maybe she should make the boy wait outside, and work with the dog! Scooby's got potential.