Stepping Out With My Baby

The Duke, The Duchess, The Royal New Babykins

"Oh, hubby?"
"Yes, dear?"
"Longtime hubby?"
"Yes, dear?"
"Remember when I gave birth to the eldest and appeared in front of the hospital, in a pretty red dress, with my makeup and hair professionally done by The Beauty Team?"
"Funny, I don't recall that."
"Well, it was over 30 years ago."
"The memory I have is a wee bit different."
"Do tell."
"I seem to recall you looking a little tired and swollen and well, there's no nice way to put this, schleppy."
"Schleppy? How dare you. More importantly, did the press notice?"
"The press?"
"You know, the paparazzi?"
"Aw. Well, they never showed."
"Huh. I thought there was a swarm of them, snapping photos, yelling, 'Lookin' good, m'lady.' "
"That didn't happen."
"Perhaps it happened the second time I gave birth."
"Surely, it didn't."
"Don't call me Shirley."
"Forgive me. But there were no paparazzi, my dear.  Just you, screaming at the top of your lungs, 'GET THIS THING OUT OF ME NOW!' "
"Screaming? How unlike me. But did I look lovely while screaming?"
"You looked rather possessed, much like Linda Blair in 'The Exorcist.' "
"How terribly unbecoming."
"Not to mention, undignified."
"So you're saying that each time I gave birth, I never appeared two hours later in full makeup and designer clothes, for the world to see?"
"Afraid not, darling."
"Did it have anything to do with the fact that I didn't marry into the Royal Family?"
"That could be part of it."
"And whose fault is that?"
"Mine?"
'Now we're getting somewhere."