Tomorrow is New Year's Eve, which means I'll be donning a glamorous red gown and stepping out on the town for champagne and midnight snogging with my dashing . . .
Sorry. I can't lie well at all. My actual plans are much more fun, anyway, and won't involve make-up or corrective undergarments of any kind: The Boy and I are each having two friends over for chicken pot pie, junk food, and board games, and . . . maybe a little Ryan Seacrest at midnight. There are only going to be a few more New Year's Eves when The Boy will deign to hang out with me, and even give me a smooch when the ball drops, and there's no way I'm giving that up.
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We started a "game night" tradition for New Year's Eve a couple of years ago, and I like it WAY better than finding a sitter, getting dressed up and partying with a bunch of drunks. Er, drunks I don't KNOW, I mean. My parents come over and we stay up late, eating snacks and playing games, then at midnight they go home and the four of us go to bed. PERFECT!
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