Jessica Simpson More Confused About Pregnancy Than We Thought, Now Thinks Her Mom Is Her Baby
By now we've all realized that Jessica Simpson seems to be very confused about how pregnancy works. She went years and years without allowing a bun in that oven, and then suddenly her awareness of birth control went out the window. Along with the birth control itself. I'm not kidding, she said the birth control went out the window. She could have meant it figuratively, but I'm not going to rule out literal defenestration. Jessica is also planning to sprint down the aisle to marry fiancee Eric Johnson, because you never know when that Pregnancy Monster is going to strike. Now that Jessica has given birth to her son Ace Knute Johnson, everybody's waiting on the edge of their seats to hear more about him. So it was oh so exciting over the weekend when Jessica tweeted a picture with the message “Eric got carried away with his swaddling skills.” This must be a photo of little Ace wrapped snug as a bug in a blanket decorated with the playing cards that inspired his name! Let's open the photo and take a looksy.
Oh, look at that. That's… not a baby. I mean, I'm not a parent, but that's definitely not what babies look like, right? Is this what happens when you have what's probably the longest pregnancy known to Hollywoodkind? The baby grows up and changes genders? Wait a minute, that's definitely not a baby. It's Jessica's mom Tina Simpson. Does… does she need some help escaping from that cocoon she appears to be trapped in? Based on her manic grin, I guess she's cool with it, although I'm still a little worried about what's happening to her legs under there. Do I need to call the fire department?
I suppose it's possible that Eric and Jessica were just joking around while swaddling their actual baby, but because this is Jessica Simpson we're talking about, I'm understandably concerned. Much like the difference between chicken and tuna, the difference between a baby and a mom is hard to figure out sometimes. One minute you're bringing your new bundle of joy home from hospital in a pram, the next you're cradling your mother in a rocking chair gently burping her and singing “Rock-a-bye Baby,” while over in the crib Grandma Ace giggles. Clearly Auntie Maxwell needs to sort all this out immediately. I'll give her a call and let her know.