The Tale of the Royal Baby (And Some Unsolicited Parenting Advice)

Once upon a time, there was a fair maiden named Kate.


She had flowing brown locks, and her figure-flattering yet classy clothing was the talk of the nation. The townspeople spoke in hushed whispers, "where dost she get such fine frocks?" then immediately rushed in droves to Ye Olde Fancypants Shoppe to buy the exact same dress.


Now this beautiful maiden was betrothed to a very British-looking prince named William. Though he had a bald spot fare and a more handsome younger brother, the maiden still deemed him worthy of her hand in marriage and the opportunity to be a royal.

So the two held a ceremony the likes of which had never been seen.


Though most only knew the groom's first name to be "Prince" and last to be "William," peasants across the pond even huddled over computer screens and televisions in the dead of night to watch the fair maiden glide down the aisle past Sir Elton John and to see what kind of cockamamy hats her guests were donning.

After the hoopla cleared and the bride and groom made their global rounds having beers with commoners and kissing babies and whatnot, the couple settled in their castle and sat on thrones all day and ate crumpits and did Zumba or something. (This author has no idea what royalty do day-to-day in 2012.)

Life went on as usual for months, though not without the occasional embarrassment to the monarchy via the irresponsible more handsome brother and inability of the duchess to wear a swimsuit whilst outside. And all the while the townspeople speculated as to when there would be a tiny prince or princess to make feel weird and turn into a former child star with unresolved issues.

Until one day in December, the sun broke through the clouds and young Kate and William strode to the royal balcony to make an important announcement:* they are with child!

Oh, happy day! How the celebrity gossip magazines and moms everywhere rejoiced! How the American beauties snickered at the thought of dear Kate packing on a few!

And here this author would like to shift the focus to the parents-to-be and the small monarch growing inside our heroine's uterus.

Dearest William and Kate, the time has come. Congratulations! I have but a few tips for your highnesses, and I pray you heed them well.

Though we may seem excited now, don't count on the support of the American people for the entirety of your offspring's childhood. You may not have noticed, but we have the attention span of a butterfly, and we will care for about 2.5 seconds after he or she is born, then go back to trying to force fame on Babyonce.

But don't worry, as our only real-live monarchs to look towards amid a sea of skinny cartoon princesses, you will always have a special place in our hearts. Especially considering the current popularity of Downton Abbey.

My second piece of advice is to keep your windows latched.

It's textbook fairytale. The doting parents say goodnight to their sweet new regal daughter, tuck her in her jewel-encrusted bassinet, tap Uncle Sir Elton on the shoulder to sing her a lullaby, and go off to bed.

Hours later when the castle is quiet, a jealous witch and/or sister climbs through the window, snatches the baby out of the crib and bounds down the turrets, never to be seen again (until 18 years later when the daughter is reunited with her parents).

Now, I'm not trying to make assumptions here, but have you seen Pippa? She's beautiful and she totally stole the show at your wedding, Kate. I wouldn't put it past her to be a snatcher. What do we REALLY know about her? I'm asking.


Is it just me or are those eyes hiding something?

My final piece of advice is to bring your child out into public in moderation only--about twice a month--so that the world doesn't get anxious and we know he or she is still alive, but please don't cover up the kid's face in an attempt to hide them from the paparrazzi. It just makes you look like a crazy person. It didn't work for Prince Michael and it won't work for Prince William Junior.

Also if it's a girl please dress her in tweed jackets and mary janes and cute hats. You're royalty, dang it. And Suri Cruise is watching you.

Love, Your Royal Subject (JK JK I'm American now, sucka.)


*Or maybe Perez Hilton broke the news on his blog. But that's not very regal.