So Mom sez tomorrer is when the day an nigt are the same length, an that this is called the soulstice, probabul because all our soulz get fixed, kinda like how they fixes time in Grenitch, England, or how they decides how much a pound is.
This is uzhoolee the time when Mom pick me up an we dance in a circle, singin, “It ar the soulstice! Hoorah hooray! It ar the soulstice! Mayke it all stay!” An although it never akshullee stay, still it kinda linger, so the days stay kinda long, an there is that pertee yeller light in the livin room, so Mom gets more writin done.
Mos recentlee, she has been writing about writing, which she refer to as “meta,” which apparently is Greek fer “being about the aboutness.” That all sound like whut she has at othr timz called “circular reeezonin,” which is when snaykes eat their own heads or ideers lik that.
So naturallee, I sez, “Circularilitee? Tricycles do that! An also they helps yu looz weight, just lik yu wud do on a dye-it!(An tho I admit I got this lastest ideer from mai frend Pamlr, I still think it gots feets. Or possibul wheelz. Huh.)