Two thousand two
Sorry, I just like the way those words look. Two thousand two. No particular reason.

While many people I know are well on their way to their annual Jan. 1 hangovers, we're getting ready to shut it down for the night here in the far-flung Texas suburb. The Wife was not feeling very well this evening, so we kept it pretty subdued. As per annual tradition, the Old Daughter got to stay up until midnight -- Eastern time, that is. I marveled at what a wonder she's becoming, and I'm not one to get real gushy about my kids. We played dominos (I kicked her ass) and Hungry Hungry Hippos (she kicked my ass.)

At some point, Dick Clark in the background noise said something about how happy most people are that 2001 is over. The Old Daughter -- who is 7, as well-informed as responsible parents allow her to be, and plenty aware of the world around her -- asked why.

Well, I said, 2001 wasn't really a very good year.

Then, a pause. She's thinking it over for herself. She looks back at the TV.

"Why not?"

If that doesn't get your two thousand two off to the right start, nothing will.