...LOLA! Sing it, Barry.
A certain 20 month old has decided "Lola" suits my personality much better than the moniker bestowed upon me by her mother. I'm fine with it. I've never been one to argue with certain adorableness, particularly when coming from so charming a package. Besides, who can resist these blue eyes and their matching mouth?
Eliza, you can call me "Lola" 'til the end of time...just as long as I'm always your favorite aunt. And won't I be cute this Halloween with yellow feathers in my hair and a dress cut down to there?
Meanwhile, Eliza's new baby sister (happy 6 week birthday, Helen!) is utterly delicious...her head, especially. This is evidenced by the numerous kisses we deliver to her cheeks, averaging two per minute, give or a take a few puckers. The eldest of the Litton grandgirls is very fond of the perpetual smooching of her new cousin's forehead.
In other news, yet another "Princess Caroline" has been crowned. She was asked to give a few words to her subjects follwing her coronation ceremony, but Her Highness only had but a fleeting moment before retreating to the palace. Thus, she merely posed for photographs, waved to her people, and silently ate the microphone. Princesses are allowed to eat whatever they want. It's a virute of being royal.
It's their world. We're thankful these gals just let us live in it.
Let's all commence with the singing of "Copacabana," please. You know you want to. Barry Manilow is smokin' hot. I'm woman enough to admit it. After all, I am LOLA!