I was robbed again! Another New Year's Eve, and even though I'm twice as old as last year, I got taken out for another early dinner and they tried to buy me off with pizza. I didn't even get to look at the wine list. What's the drinking age in this state, anyway? And I know my mom had a beer in the afternoon, even though she didn't realize I could smell it on her breath. I was sent to bed after a Mary Poppins tape and couldn't even stay up till midnight to watch the ball drop. When do I get to have some fun?

I just watched the memorial service for Gerald Ford. He must have been president a long time ago. The only president I know is George Bush. I was born right after he was reelected. I didn't know there had been so many others. It already feels like Bush has been president forever. I wonder how old I'll have to be before he has to get another job. Anyway, there were lots of flags and cannons and speeches. But no commercials. I missed the commercials. I especially like the one with the duck, for Aflac or something.
There's another guy who died this week, James Brown. They keep showing him singing on TV and with really weird hair. He looks cooler than Ford.
I've been playing with my new oven every day. I think I'll be a chef when I grow up. That way I can make hot dogs and hamburgers all the time and put mustard on them and not have to eat all this healthy stuff that keeps showing up on my tray.

I've learned to appreciate the spirit of Hanukkah. And also the meaning of Christmas. (Well, to a point. I saw Santa at the mall and that guy with the long beard was scary! No way I was sitting on his lap.)
But after studying the menorah, the dreidels, the latkes, the Christmas trees and the fancy lights on the houses, I have discovered one very important lesson: You get lots of cool presents! Boy, am I raking it in. I've got a new oven with lots of food to go with it. My very own doctor's kit (I've learned to pronounce stethoscope). A bunch of new books about Danny and the Dinosaur and Harold and the Purple Crayon and Postman Pig. I've got new blocks for building tall things and--this is the best part--knocking them down. And new CDs. And a school bus that plays songs. And a Baby Elmo, with his own diaper. One of the best parts about being 2 is that people don't give you boring clothing that you have to pretend to like.

Did you see this story on the Wiggles? In the New York Times? On the front page? What, there was no news that day? Or maybe the paper is trying to appeal to 2-year-olds. Well, I'm 2, and I don't care that the lead singer is leaving. I mean, really. What's next, a profile of Barney? This group has no talent. They can't sing and they can't act. I was forced to watch their stupid show when I was 6 months old and too young to handle the remote. I still haven't gotten over it. I'm into real music these days, like the Meetles. I like Paul and John. The Wiggles can buzz off, and the New York Times needs to grow up.

I've been watching some football. What a crazy game. They throw the ball, I get it. They kick the ball, I get it. But why do they run around and then all fall down? It looks like when I play Ring Around the Rosie. Are they really just dancing?
I scored a big one tonight. My mom was eating some gloppy pasta dish in a restaurant when when she dropped a chunk of it on the table. "You should wear a bib," I said. Bam! I mean, why should I be the only one who has to wear this stupid piece of cloth around my neck? When grownups act like babies, they need a talking-to, don't you think?