As a bad year for most of us in North America comes to a close (but a year which, I have to confess, was one of much joy for me personally) , I find myself posting a letter quite different from that I had hoped to write you on New Year’s Eve.
That was supposed to be a photo-rich retrospective, but I’m afraid it will have to wait. Meanwhile, I’ll reflect not on your general development but on a specific part of it. Namely, your penchant for correcting your parents’ mistakes.
Darling child, I dub thee Bésébodé!.