False Alarm! Let’s all relax for a Baby Burger Boy am I red in the face; turns out emergency vehicles at the Middleton’s were actually for—get ready for this, I hate myself—Kate’s puppy Lupo, who accidentally got his head stuck in a gate. Lupo’s just fine now, thank you for asking, and turns out it's the rest of us who are red in the face. Any by us, I mean myself and the older women I chat with on the subway. “My baby was two weeks late and 12 pounds,” said one. Glad Kate Middleton didn’t hear that, as I haven’t stopped thinking about it since. But Vanity Fair was partly right: Wills and Kate indeed moved from Mumsy’s house to their apartment in Kensington Palace. So obviously I went there too, for good measure. Turns out the whole city had the same plan, and the gardens are presently packed with sunbathers and magazine readers and frisbie throwers. Not a single Royal Baby, however.

Since Kate hasn’t got my BFF vibes just yet, I moved from the ultra-modern Bloomsbury hotel to those of the 1730s—King George’s State Apartment. The lesson then and now: it’s good to be the king!

Then I was promptly distracted by Kensington’s newest exhibit: Fashion Rules, in partnership with Vogue. Hey now: 80s dresses from Diana, The Queen’s teeny-waisted 1950s garb, and fitted satin Princess Margaret (who, as I learned today, was surprisingly foxy).

But why am I here again? Ah yes, the baby. Whenever the little Prince or Princess arrives, expect a formal notice on an easel in the forecourt of the Queen’s digs at Buckingham Palace—the exact same way (and the exact same easel) that was used for Wililam’s birth announcement. For now, however, still no news on the baby front. And in the meantime, I did find a delicious Royal Baby Burger. You know you want it!

Enter our Name the Royal Baby contest! On site in London, Royal watcher and Toronto writer Rosemary Counter waits patiently for William and Kate Middleton’s baby. They’re probably more excited than Rosemary, but not by much! Photography: Rosemary Counter