(William brushing the dirt off? Lulz) Oh, sure she is. There’s got to be some way to inject some Americanism into the news that the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge are expecting a little monarch, right? There’s probably no better way than to submit that America’s little bundles of baby pseudo-monarchy are probably giving this whole Royal Baby nonsense the empirical side eye that it rightly deserves, yes? Yes.
So we maintain that Blue Ivy, the little not-often seen offspring of Queen Songstress Beyoncé and Duke of Timberland Boots i.e. a Hip Hop Royal, Jay-Z, is probably one of the most unimpressed little princesses ever. So what, that Will’s and Kate’s little baby will maybe one day rule all of England (not really) and get a fancy-schmancy coronation, wear one of those bejeweled helmets, and be able to “knight” the likes of, we dunno, all fifteen David Beckham children one day? Blue Ivy will probably be in music videos, or music brain chips, whatever exists in 2033, and no doubt she already has a tiara on standby.
But no, seriously, we’re happy for the royals aren’t we? Ok. Maybe many of us don’t care about the active womb activities of the products of some sort of archaic royal society. But we have to admit the entire world’s collective commencing of batshit royal baby insanity is pretty outrageous. There were Britishy people reporting on morning sickness today on America’s most scandalous hot bed of morning info-tainment, The Today Show. They were all elated and speaking in one of those high-pitched nasal British voices about the future of Britain, and how two very human people, who have done a very human thing like procreate, will suddenly have their lives changed and flipped upside down with the arrival of a moonbeam shot directly out of the ecclesiastic cosmos of the universe’s uteri, or in layman’s terms, a squalling infant. Who will be on royal diaper change duty? What advice will Prince Harry give to his first niece or nephew? “There’s no sex in the Champagne Room?” Oh, ho. That Uncle Harry. Of course he’ll say there’s no sex in the Champagne Room unless you’re a royal in Vegas.
Will we have to spend the next half a year hearing about every move Kate Middleton makes, everything she eats, if she’s wearing a fashion-forward, belly-bearing frock? Did Diana look this pleasant when she was pregnant with Wills? Is the Queen overjoyed, or is she saying unequivocally, “I don’t care how many little Dukes you shoot from your loins, I plan to live forever, and ever, like the rolling moss in a bog creek in one of the small burgs or hamlets I still rule! You will never be rid of me, Baby Usurper! Never! Hahaahahaaa! Just like Charles, you’ll never be king! Know this always.” Yes, these are all things we’ll have to read about for the next six months or so. We will be updated weekly on the reported increasing girth of one English commoner all the way across the pond as if women haven’t had babies since the beginning of time. But! This is so totally different because there will be badly done graphic images by the news media reflecting whether or not the baby will share the likeness of the better parts of his or her’s parentage. (This is already happening!) We assume the hope is that the whole horsy thing the royals have perfected for generations skips over Baby Golden Scepter of Wales. We’re all hoping for good things, yes? And pictures! And ultrasounds! And candid shots of a child in short pants! And Wills wearing a plaid smoking jacket laughing heartily at Baby Golden Scepter of Wales pulling his finger!
But we digress; one could ask if it was wise to release such personal information about the doings in Kate’s ladyspring so early into the pregnancy, since she’s already suffering a bit of a tiny complication that has her hospitalized? Most experts would tell you that to announce this kind of news before the initial 12 weeks have lapsed is risky and can be stress inducing. BUT! There was no way anyone watching Middleton’s midsection for months could have come across even a whiff of news like this and not pulled out the equivalent of pink and blue silk bunting in the world of Tabloid journalism, so what were the Royal’s choices? Having insiders leak the information to the press and attempt to get rich off of their private lives, or just come out with the information and hope for the best, while also continuing to despise the media? Option two it is! Oh, the fine print to the old, “no privacy ever” clause to being born into the ruling class with no actual power.
Either way, Blue Ivy, will say, “Whatever happens with the whole monarchy thing, little Wales baby, you better invite me to the palace for your Sweet Sixteen. MTV filmed (mind-melded to legions of fans) mine last year and Diddy gave me a hover ship. Trump that!”
Kids.
