Hey, Rocco. Remember me? The latch hook cat you left half-finished at home? You did a beautiful job on me so far but I’m afraid you stopped before you made my ears, so I can’t hear anything. What? Did you say something? I wouldn’t know. I don’t have any ears. I feel so half baked. I’m like the kitty without the cat. The me without the ow. The purr without the rrrrrrrr.
Being left this way is not half bad, I guess. But it’s not half good either. I do have both my eyes and I can see that I am not the only half-finished thing on your desk. There are some half-written thank you cards, a half-solved Rubik’s cube, a half-read book, and a half-eaten bag of hot sour gummy worms. When you come back, I’ll half to ask you if you always finish things only halfway or if you ever finish things all the way. Of course, I won’t be able to hear your answer unless you finish making my ears, in which case I’ll have the answer.
Even though I’m only halfway done, I love you all the way. Come home soon! (All the way home, please—not just halfway.)
WHAT’S COOKIN’ NI2TE:
Breakfast for dinner