After what seemed like the longest pregnancy on earth, and one that wins the award for the most fondled, cradled baby bump of all time, little Archie is finally here.
I am not a royalist whatsoever but there’s no question that there is a significant bit of give and take required by the royals because we do, after all, pay their wages.
I completely understand the wish to keep your initial newborn baby days private. But I do question what level of privacy you can expect if you’ve married into a family that are basically only in existence these days due to a quid pro quo with the public who fund them.
I’m not enthralled by the royals and therefore wasn’t much interested outside of the standard cute-baby-plus-a-bit-of-living-history aspect.
However, I get why some people are totally bemused by all the secrecy.
Why not just publish a baby photo and a name on the standard Buckingham Palace noticeboard on the day of his birth?
But by doing that Meghan and Harry would have kept their employers (the public) informed, but also kept their precious little one (also being funded by the public, harsh as it may seem when weighing in at only seven odd pounds) to themselves.
Then emerge when you wish.
They took days to reveal the name Archie – a name very much in keeping with their more modern royal approach. We don’t even know where he was born.
Poor old Kate had to trundle herself out within hours of birth when most of us are still strapping our nipples up and tucking our guts into our big girl pants, but the future King of England is her husband.
She seems to get that and just sucks it up with a smile and a bouffant blow dry. It’s a fine balance.
I wouldn’t have wanted international snoopage within minutes of producing a human from my nether regions, but then I’ve not married Prince Harry.
The fact that even William said he was looking forward to finding out the name – suggesting the baby was indeed been named but it was kept weirdly schtum even from family – is certainly perplexing.
Meghan is now at the beck and call of a tiny despot
Sleep deprivation has hit the headlines this week following Prince William’s welcoming of his brother into the land of the snooze-deprived.
There is nothing quite like the feeling of your eyeballs swinging from the front of your face as if on strings, having been rolled in sand and grit.
Such is life with a newborn.
It would be interesting to know how much Earth-mothering Meghan feels up to once her little one is a fortnight old and the novelty of being awake all day and night at the beck and call of a tiny despot of your own making, has worn off.
Access to night nurses and expressed bottles of royal breast milk may suddenly seem appealing.
Time waits for no one – not even bright young teenagers
GCSEs begin this coming week so best of luck to both the students taking them and the parents who must keep calm and carry on in the face of exam pressure.
Exams have come a long way in the past 30 years.
I still remember waiting for the postman to deliver my GCSE results, back in the days when the post arrived at approximately 8am.
And there was even a second post later on in the day.
It’s a time of immense anxiety for families but it is all worth it when it’s done, and those certificates will open doors to jobs, careers and different options for decades yet to come.
Much as the future seems a fair way off when we are 16, it is just around the corner.