Top 13 of 2013, Day #8: I Will Never Be Royaaaal

Day #8: July 22, 2013

On different level entirely, there was another birth we were all excited for this summer: The Royal Baby. I won't compare Ben, a child I will watch grow up and who will be a special part of my life, to the future monarch of a country I don't live in, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit to buying into the hype that surrounded his arrival.

Here's the truth: Like most other girls born between, say, 1978 and 1990, I have swooned for the Princes of Wales (William and Harry, not Charles). I mean, I can't even lie - I should have said "swoon" because I still do. So, Harry? Just sayin...if you're a blog reader, you know where to find me.

But I digress. The point is, I've had my eye on those royal boys for a long time. I'm a sucker for a fairy tale, and a prince is kiiiiiind of a key ingredient in all the best ones. Throw in a good looks, a British accent, and centuries of history, and I'm pretty much salivating for any bit of news about either William or Harry.

And then came Kate.

Like most other girls born between 1978 and 1990, I should've hated her. I should've been jealous of her story, of her prince, of her amazing hair. And I am...but I can't hate her. I love her. I want to BE her when I grow up.

Now, believe what you want about how it came to be, but the story I love is that Kate, like the rest of us, had a crush on William. Kate, unlike the rest of us, figured out a way - through informed decisions, smiles of fate, her own charm - to become his Princess. I can't hate her for that. I only hate myself for not doing it first. Or...ever. Like, even in a million years ever.

So yes, when Kate's pregnancy was announced, and it coincided with the very anticipated pregnancy of my best friend, I was excited along with the rest of the world. I wish I could've been in London as they prepared for the royal arrival, but, as that was an impossibility, I settled for the next best thing.

Disney World.

It sounds ridiculous, but for me? It was a really neat experience. Nonstop coverage by the international press guaranteed instant updates no matter where you might be when it happened, so what better place to celebrate a royal baby than in a castle? Or visiting with Princesses? Or, especially, London itself (via Epcot)?!

What's that? A Prince is born?!

And that's what we did. The day Prince George was born, I left the room with CNN on baby watch in the morning, waiting for the ALERT! text that would come at some point that Monday. We started our day walking through the UK in Epcot, but spent the afternoon in the Magic Kingdom because - obviously - that's where MY Royal Family lives.

Lunch? Maybe the castle we ate in was practically brand new and not seeping centuries of history, but the Beast does a pretty good job keeping the ballroom looking grande. By the afternoon, we were waiting to meet Disney's golden girls - Rapunzel, Aurora, and Cinderella, and anxiously awaiting an announcement from the Palace.

Like, the real one. Buckingham. From the Queen, not Mickey Mouse. At that point, my bets were still on a tiny Princess making her debut, but as we stood waiting for Disney Royalty, British Royalty was announced: It's A BOY! the alert decreed.

Of course it was. Kate knows all about how this "heir" thing is supposed to work.

Chalk art celebrating the news!

A boy. A prince. A future king. Yet, in that second, he was the same person our baby Ben was, and Kate the same person my Sarah was - a new mom.

And then the world rejoiced and there were trumpets and press outings and official portraits and whatnot so Ben and George had pretty divergent lives from that point forward, but for THAT moment...history and my world weren't that far off.

We went back to visit the UK Pavilion that afternoon because it was the closest I could get to London, and you know what? It was a pretty cool feeling to be there.

Cheers to you, Prince George!

Tea and...well, Minnie cake.