(this is worth reading because the punchline is so hilarious, in a dadist way)

A few days ago, Rio and I were driving and she started making lists of her friends ages. She came up with three friends who are four and four friends who are three. For giggles, I asked her how many total kids that was and she right away said, “Seven”

Tonight she wanted to play that game again, making various sets of people and adding the sets (moms and dads, toddlers and babies, five year olds and teenagers, one year olds plus two year olds plus infants, etc). She counted on her fingers (or mine) and nailed every problem she set herself. Then she wanted to show off for her dad, who was downstairs chatting with our dinner guests.

“He can bring his friends up here,” she said. Rio at this point was lounging in the water, leaning against one wall with her feet propped up on the opposite edge, arms spread out along the rim of the tub. A rubber duck sat on the tub ledge between us, leftover from some previous bath. I was taking up about all the available floorspace outside the tub, because our bathroom is tiny.

“I don’t think they would all fit,” I assured her. We counted the number of people who would be in the bathroom if brought our four guests up. Seven.

“Seven people won’t fit in this tiny bathroom,” I said.

“Seven people will fit,” she said.

“Maybe we could fit seven cats in here,” I countered.

“Or seven dogs,” she suggested.

“I think even seven dogs would be a tight fit, but we could do seven ducks.”

“No,” said Rio flatly.

“No? Those ducks really like their personal space, huh?”

“Yep. Especially this one,” she deadpanned, moving one foot slightly to send the rubber duck hurtling to the floor outside the tub. “Now seven people will fit in this bath.”

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