On New Year’s Eve, we gathered around the coffee table and I had everybody make one resolution and one prediction for the new year. I wrote them all down, sealed them in an envelope, and we’ll open it next year when we do the same thing.
Some of the resolutions were the standard fare: exercise more, eat healthier. Some were fun: learn some magic tricks. Some were challenging: be nicer.
With the predictions, nobody seems to feel a calling to be a seer. Nobody wanted to guess the winner of the Superbowl or the presidential election – although Bill predicted that the winner would be somebody I, his wife, did not vote for. Yes, well, we shall see.
Most of us stuck with likely to happen predictions: that the gingerbread houses would be smashed (we generally do that on January 6th), that we would move to a new home, that we would have to resume schoolwork.
Billy predicted that he would have a new brother or sister this year. That’s another likely prediction. I’m due mid-June!
It will be an exciting year, I’m sure.