That's what it is around here, anyway, because I'm on royal baby watch. Unfortunately, I'm standing in the waiting room all by my lonesome. Apparently, it's silly to care about the royal baby, but it isn't silly to care that I care about the royal baby.
Such is the selective reasoning of the snickering testosterone that I married, and it looks like he's in good company. My twitter feed is all... well... atwitter with the battle between those who care and those who don't care.
I don't care that they don't care. I think that makes me the winner in the Silly War, just in case you care.
So why do I care?
Well, aside from apparently being a silly woman, I'm also a hopeless romantic who loves nothing more than a happily ever after, especially when said happily ever after involves a prince and a princess and a palace. What could be happier ever after than a royal baby carriage?
Bet you can't think of a single thing.
I care because it's fun. I care because it's nice to turn on the news once in a while and not find myself sputtering about the home place like a grumpy old man or stockpiling munitions.
So I care, and I'm watching and waiting for the royal announcement. I'll be pleased as punch no matter what color the baby blanket is, but to be honest here, I am kind of rooting for a pink one this time.
In my head, I've named her Victoria Elizabeth Diana. (Not that anybody cares...) Of course, the name HRH Princess Deborah has a nice ring to it too. I haven't picked out a princely name yet, but I imagine he'll have three or four of them by the time the christening is complete. One thing's for sure, though. If His Royal Highness takes after his daddy, they won't be calling him Sir Lotsa Hair for very long.
Anyone else in the waiting room this morning? Have you picked a name?
Of course, you all know by now that it's a prince!
His Royal Highness Christopher Rupert, Windemier Vlandamier, Carl Alexander, Francois Reginald, Lancelot Herman, Gregory James...
If you *get* that, Hello kindred soul!