Eleven

I have many happy memories from my childhood. Big things and little things, accidental and deliberate that pile up haphazardly to make me, me. My family is wonderful and our home was, er, well some say, "very Leave it to Beaver" and they mean that in the very best possible way. One of the many happy vignettes is innocent enough and it revolves around the number eleven.

Except we never called it eleven around our house.

It was a Snitcher's Dozen.

Illustrated here are a Snitcher's Dozen of freshly baked cinnamon rolls. Eleven cinnamon rolls.

The term was obviously derived from the intersection of Baker's Dozen for thirteen, particularly when associated with baked goods and our keen appreciation for delicious treats.

I was surprised recently when I used the term, Snitcher's Dozen and it was met with stunned silence. The type of stunned silence I normally associate with a particularly bad pun. I realized that I have been taking Snitcher's Dozen for granted and that I have been keeping it to myself. No more.

I share with you now the Snitcher's Dozen. Another way of saying eleven.

I couldn't believe my luck when I found that Snitcher's Dozen.com was available. Go, Internet.

Eleven photo © cc-by Heart of Oak