Old Acquaintance. 

He was promised (a pinky swear, even) that he could stay up until midnight this year. He’s never stayed up that late. He did, once, make it until 11 at a sleepover with his teenaged cousins and he was an absolute bear the next day. But that was a whole year ago and he seems to have done a lot of growing in that time. Two pounds, two and a half inches, and a fair amount of tolerance for late nights. At this year’s cousin sleepover, he was a little ornery the next day, but nothing like before, which is why I shouldn’t really be worried about New Year’s Eve. 

Except I totally am. 

It’s not like he will be cozied up next to me on the couch alone at midnight either. We will be at someone else’s house, with a bunch of other people, after having partied with the kids he’s known his whole life for five solid hours. I am not expecting any of it to be pretty. 

Maybe between now and 24 hours from now I will find a way to adjust my expectations. To project a positive outlook. To expect the best instead of the worst. Maybe between now and 2016 I will figure out some game plan that will make ringing in the new year with a drunkenly exhausted 7-year-old at least a little tolerable. (At least he’s a happy drunk.)

In the meantime, I’m actually just delighted that I have a happy, healthy, joyful family with which to celebrate. So, cheers to that, right? 

Happy New Year. 

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