Livin' It Up on New Year's Eve

I spent New Year's Eve eating creme puffs and eclairs and watching a CSI marathon with Colin. Andrew was at the New Year's youth dance with Adria. He went as the bishopric presence at the dance, but I think he secretly wanted to see who his fifteen year old daughter was dancing with. Eva was in usual form with, "Mom, it's past my bedtime. I better go to bed!" It's nice to have one kid that doesn't kick and scream her way to sleep. Liam, however, rolled around trying to sit on Colin's head until he finally passed out. It was probably all the sugar since he and Eva discovered that they like eclairs which according to them tastes like they have 'melted ice cream' in the middle. After years of staying up past midnight with sick kids or insomnia or whatever else parenthood and adulthood brings, New Year's Eve has lost its mystique. The days of watching Dick Clark and the shiny, glittery ball drop on Times Square and wishing I were there are gone. Even venerable Dick Clark is on his way out to be replaced, I presume, with faux-DJ Ryan Seacrest who I'm not sure has actually seen or held a vinyl record. New Year's Eve is definitely not my holiday. Now the last day of school: there is day I can still celebrate like a teenager.