Who's your daddy?

In the last post, it was very obvious that Lena is my child. This past week, I took a series of photos of the girls, and there was no denying to whom Livia belonged.

What do you think?

In other news, we had a surreal experience on the last day of school. Ariel and I went to pick up Lena, and the headmaster came up to inform us that our daughter had won the Singing Cup (it itself does not sing). I had to ask, "Which daughter?" It turns out that Lena won the award this term for her amazing singing. I'm still a little bewildered by this. She must get extra credit for enthusiasm. At the end of the summer term we have to give it back, but Lena's name and the year will be permenantly engraved on the base with the previous winners. The cup was first awarded in 1958 to S.J. Drabble. I have all of his albums. Even the Christmas album.

In church each Sunday, we get comments about the girls' singing. You see, we sit near the front, therefore facing very few people; and yet, the whole of the congregation can hear them -- for every hymn. It's worse on days like today when they happen to be sitting next to each other as then they try to out-sing each other. By the end, they are louder than the whole assembly and the piano. The Bishop is visibly laughing at the front, and I'm blushing furiously. It's best (worst) during the Sacrament Hymn, as we prepare to take the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper. This is always a solemn and contemplative hymn, and yet it is belted out by the dueling mezzo-sopranos. Our only consolation is that by the end, at their loudest, the words have taken a triumphant turn, and their volume connotes the choirs of angels. Legions of angels.

But this one looks a little devilish. Just like her Daddy.