London's lashes

So far, all of the parents I've talked to share a common sentiment. We all think that our baby is the world's most beautiful, and we feel sorry for other parents and their obviously inferior babies. We are all relieved to know that the other parents think their babies are beautiful--the little beggars shouldn't get shorted on parental love just because they're weird-lookin' puffy-faced bug-eyed monsters--but we're all sure that all the other parents are wrong. Of course they think their babies are beautiful. Their addled-parent hormones won't let them think anything else--and it's a good thing, too. But they're wrong. Each of us secretly knows: my baby is the most beautiful baby ever ever ever!

Of course, in our case all of the other parents really are wrong. Sorry, guys, we love ya and yer babies, but it's time for total truth here: London is, by any objective standard, the most beautiful little boy in the entire history of the world (girl babies, you still have a crown to fight for). Case in point: in addition to a full head of golden locks and great big eyes that are outer-space-nebula blue, he has incredibly long lashes. He comes by them honestly--the next time you see Vicki, check out her lashes. They're astounding. Me, I didn't even have lashes for the first three months of my life, which caused Mom some consternation until they grew in. In fact, London seems to have cherry-picked the best features from the Wedel and Cooper phenotypes and combined them into some kind of baby Adonis.

We can live with that.