Paris Hilton’s 8-month-old daughter, London, is visiting the capital of England for the first time. The socialite shared some adorable posts from their trip to the city that shares her daughter’s name. Fans gushed over the little girl’s cuteness, and people were quick to share their opinions about her posts.
The 43-year-old heiress posted an adorable video of herself showering her baby daughter, London Hilton Reum, with kisses during their inaugural trip to England’s capital. “London is in London!” exclaimed Paris at the start of the video. She then added, “Hi, smiley girl!”
Paris’ post served as a glamorous promotion for her family’s renowned hotel, The London Hilton. She included hashtags such as #ItMattersWhereYouStay, #HiltonPartner, and #HiltonForTheStay to highlight the partnership.
A few days later, the TV personality shared a series of new photos featuring her husband, Carter, their daughter, London, and their son, Phoenix, posing at the entrance of The London Hilton. She captioned the post, “London Hilton at The London Hilton!” and once again included the promotional hashtags.
Fans quickly showered the star with compliments about her adorable family, especially noting how cute the little girl is.
One person remarked, “Can we talk about how cute London looks in pink?” while another added, “London is already a sliving icon.” A third exclaimed, ’’Your family is ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL!!! Little Miss London Hilton looks just like you and your siblings when they were babies!!!
While the photos are undeniably sweet and picture-perfect, people online expressed concern about the socialite leveraging her family to promote her business, as one observer noted, “Using her baby to promote her business. Classic.”
Our hearts are warmed by looking at this beautiful family. Another celebrity child who recently captivated attention with her stunning beauty is Jason Momoa and Lisa Bonet’s 16-year-old daughter Lola. You can see her gorgeous photos here.
I Incurred a $500 Fine When My Neighbor Falsely Accused My Son of Her Toddler’s Hallway Scribbles — I Couldn’t Let It Go
Caitlin often found herself informally supervising her neighbor Stacy’s young son, Nate, providing him some stability while his mom sought time for herself. However, when Nate decorated the hallway walls with doodles during Caitlin’s absence, she was unjustly slapped with a $500 fine. Determined to set things right, Caitlin devised a plan for retribution.
Stacy had become accustomed to letting her young son, Nate, roam the hallway as a play area.
“It’s safe, Caitlin,” she’d assure me. “Plus, it’s their version of outdoor play.”
She would then retreat behind her door, leaving Nate to his devices, often while she entertained guests.
“I just need some downtime,” she confessed to me once in the laundry room. “I’m a grown woman with needs, you know. Being a single mom, you must get it.”
I understood her need for personal space, but I could never imagine letting my own son, Jackson, wander the hallways alone. Despite our general familiarity with the neighbors, the corridors didn’t feel completely secure.
Jackson, slightly older than Nate, seemed concerned about the younger boy, who often loitered alone, clutching his tattered teddy bear.
“Mom,” Jackson would say during his playtime, “maybe we should invite him over.”
Grateful for my son’s compassion, I agreed. It was better to keep both children within sight, ensuring their safety.
Thus, we began having Nate over for snacks, toys, and movies—a simple arrangement that brought him noticeable joy.
“He mentioned he likes playing with others,” Jackson noted one day. “I don’t think his mom spends much time with him.”
And interestingly, Stacy hardly acknowledged this setup. Once she realized Nate was safe with us, she seemed to extend her leisure time even more.
Eventually, it became routine for Nate to knock on our door whenever his mother let him out.
“Hello,” he’d say, teddy in hand. “I’m here to play.”
However, one day, we were away at my parents’ house for my mom’s birthday.
“I hope Nate will be okay,” Jackson expressed concern as we drove.
“Oh, honey,” I responded. “His mom is there. She’s responsible for his safety too.”
Upon our return, we were greeted by hallway walls covered in childish drawings—a colorful chaos of stick figures and squiggles.
“Nate must have had fun,” I remarked, searching for my keys.
“Isn’t he going to be in trouble?” Jackson asked, eyeing the artwork
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