Suri's Burn Book

So, no, of course it’s not true that I’m starting my own fashion line. Don’t you think I do enough for the fashion community just by existing? Now they want me to dress the masses? Everyone knows I don’t like to work, and I especially don’t want to be associated with anything off-the-rack.

A Retrospective on the Year, on My Seventh Birthday

• Rode in a taxi, touched a public hand railing, and got a heel stuck in a subway grate. Basically, became a New Yorker.
• Flew commercial and came thisclose to contracting polio.
• Started biking. Stopped biking.
• Participated in two months of “The Year of Katie,” before everyone gave up.
• Started proletariat school, which requires me to wear the same outfit five days a week. Don’t worry about me, though. I accessorize to perfection.
• Wrote a book. (At last count, no Jolie-Pitt has written more than a sentence.)
• Survived Hurricane Sandy, which involved three days in a hotel room with Katie. Applied for a Presidential Medal of Freedom.
• Fired the most conspicuous body double in body double history.
• Experimented with bangs, because I live on the edge.

I am now seven. Please gift accordingly — I am asking for a puppy and loose diamonds.

And this is why you don’t let Tom Cruise cut your hair, no matter how down in the dumps he seems or how excited he gets about bangs.

Okay, Katie, let’s get a couple of things straight, because you are spreading some nonsense around town.

“My daughter Suri loves make-up. She’s only six! Usually I can’t find my make-up when her friends come over.”

I would never hide Katie’s makeup. She needs it, I have my own, and sharing is how you get pinkeye.

“I tell her to be subtle with it. ‘You can always put more on. Start with one product. You wouldn’t wear all your jewellery at once.’”

Um, she didn’t give me that advice — she got that advice from me, after three bad experiences with bronzer and silver eyeshadow.

Also, I’ve taken up tennis.

There is very little I loathe more than giving presents to other people.

My body double showed up for work with white socks and black shoes, a coat that has Velcro, and a low-denomination bill. So I just decided to say screw it and wear a novelty hat. It couldn’t get worse at that point.

Every morning, she waits to get dressed until she sees what I’m wearing. I’m over it.

It’s Christmas in the Holmes-Cruise Empire, and while I’ve seen plenty of rumors about what I’ve requested from “Santa” this year, none of them have been quite accurate. So here’s the scoop on the gifts I actually want to see under the tree on Tuesday:

• Details on Adele’s baby.
• The Secretary of State nomination. It’s not too late to un-pick John Kerry.
• Blair Waldorf’s Gossip Girl wardrobe, now that she’s done with it.
• A complete set of Louis Vuitton luggage, and somewhere far away to take it to. Alone.
• The diamond that Ryan Reynolds bought Blake Lively.
• Oprah as my personal life coach for 2013, this most horrible year. It’s not like she’s busy.
• A teacup Yorkie named Flossy.
• A fancy bag to carry Flossy around in.
• A brunch party with the U.S. Women’s Gymnastics Team.
• The Ralph Lauren military-inspired jacket that Kiernan Shipka wore at the brand’s NYFW event. Also, Kiernan Shipka’s friendship.
• This Oscar de la Renta cuff bracelet.
• World peace would be nice, too. But that bracelet is really pretty.

Happy birthday, Katie. Maybe your thirty-fifth year will be the one where I start wanting to be seen with you.

Doubtful.