Greetings from cold-as-balls Washington, D.C., you maniacal maniacs! I’m up here in visiting my sister who’s 7 months preggo with an eggo. I left my progeny, Ava and Yiani, back in sunny Miami and give mad props to the Greek and Argentine grandparents for holding it down while I’m up here playing hooky. You guys deserve a gold medal. Or a shopping spree at Neiman’s. Or a frozen hot chocolate from Serendipity. Actually, you warrant all three.
While I am relishing the peace and quiet, and not getting bitched around by a 4- and 2- YEAR OLD I do miss those little boogers. Like, a lot. But I always have them with me in my heart and hanging around my neck with these Miami-based Phillips Frankel name tags. I mean, how darling are they? Duh, I know the answer. But for realz, friends always ask me where they’re from, so here you go. You’re-welcome-very-much.
You can monogram each tag (available in yellow, platinum or rose gold) with your kiddo’s name, your pet Petie python’s name, your sugar daddy’s moniker — whatevs — and I prom prom peeps will compliment you forevs. Off to take a nap now. Because I can. Don’t go all Judge Judy on me. I deserve it!
