Numbers vs. Numeros

Curious what it's like inside my mind sometimes?

This occurred to me when I woke up this morning.

When you say them in English, I feel like the numbers 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 9 & 10 are in the equivalent of a bicycle gang. 

One's the leader, of course. Two's the sidekick. Three is the kind, lanky kid. Four and Five are fraternal twins; one wears glasses and the other has terrible handwriting. But they both play soccer. Six is the hot chick. Eight is her bff, who's pretty and sweet, but doesn't talk as much. Nine is the smart kid. And Ten is the muscle.

But Seven is out of the loop. Seven is the outcast. Less Allison Reynolds and more John Bender-- but not as cool. Seven also talks to himself and doesn't wash his hair. Maybe he's really not a bad dude-- but the other numbers just won't give him the time of day. Dirty looks abound. Because he's different. I'd even go as far as to say that Seven is Six's little brother. But he's a liability. An annoyance. A yawning pothole in the middle of an interstate. 

But in Spanish? Different story entirely. Uno, Dos are twin boys of the Weasley variety. Amusing troublemakers.  Tres, Seis & Diez are the pretty girls who go everywhere together and laugh all the time.  Quatro, Cinco & Ocho drive fast cars and play cards, gambling their lunch money away. Siete & Nueve are artistic. They write poetry. And they probably smoke.

None of the Spanish numbers are lonely though. They might not be bff's, but they can all stand to be around each other. They're more balanced. They get along and accept that they all make each other more interesting. They don't leave anyone hanging out to dry.

I think that I've unconsciously felt this way my whole life.  

Or at least since I learned how to count in Spanish.

How did I reach these conclusions? 

I unconsciously organize numbers by how many syllables are in their names.

Does that make sense?

No wonder I suck at math.