I am the exact bridge between yesterday's year and today's year, lasting only a single second, yet the whole world waits up late to see me. What am I?

I come in a stick that twists up from behind, lay down a purple trail that disappears in plain sight, and keep arts-and-crafts class perfectly stuck together. What am I?

What sort of reading material does a frozen lake prefer on a chilly afternoon?

You strap tennis rackets to your boots, but you won't play a match; across the deep winter snow you stride without sinking down a patch. What are they?

I stand completely still, yet I make everyone around me start shouting numbers backward. What am I?

I am a heavy vehicle decorated with flowers and balloons that floats down main street without ever touching water. What am I?

I bite down hard on your homework sheets to keep them together, but I have no mouth to chew your lunch. What am I?