What if we treat “2 3 4” as three separate numbers standing in a row like awkward party guests? If you take half of 2, you get 1. That’s easy enough—even a very tired dog could do that. Half of 3 is 1.5, because 3 is a stubborn odd number that refuses to split evenly.
And half of 4? Child’s play: it’s 2. So if you put those halves together, you end up with 1, 1.5, and 2. That’s a nice little collection, but it feels incomplete, like a sentence without a cookie at the end. It’s technically correct, but it doesn’t make you laugh.
