ello, jello

We have our favorite numbers. We practice them with our lips. Three is a solid choice, we hate four because it reminds me of the mandarin word for death. Five is fine, I guess. Six is pretty good cause of 666 and she likes that… but seven. Seven is our favorite. Seven is different. Seven is alone. Seven is like us. Seven feels (almost!) satisfactory, so there’s always a place for the excuse to have a little bit more. Eight because spiders have eight legs, and we like spiders. Nine because cats have nine lives. I’m usually ready for sleep at this point, but she’ll slip in a number ten. Just cause I like the number ten, she’ll say.