Honestly, dahrlings, I have no idea why everyone is in such a dither over a wailing lump of royal poop. Babies happen. Sperm ovum, you know the drill. Out plops a digestive tube. Trust me, the accidental lineage doesn’t change the diaper.
I feel sorry for that little thing. He’s gotten into something not of his choosing. Sort of like being born a Carroll. Nobody chooses that. And now that Jonathan’s been dethroned from his own company – a commoner, wandering the streets of Mississauga with no job -- he’ll probably need some royal pampering of his own. It depends. I know I'd be heading for the nearest Shoppers.
Truth is we all have to deal with things hitting the fan some time. Some at a very tender age. The infant will live under a microscope. His milk intake noted; toes measured; first steps plastered on tabloids. And that royal baby is in for a tough time too.
