Several scenes into the new movie Bridget Jones’s Baby, our heroine is taken aback when her obstetrician classifies her condition as a “geriatric pregnancy.”  (I confess I heard the same ghastly thing from one of my own doctors, although most used the kinder, gentler, more politically correct phrase “advanced maternal age.”) Bridget is 43, as we’ve just learned from a rather longer than necessary prologue. But, being the oldest person in the birthing ward is the least of Bridget’s problems. She’s more concerned about paternity than maternity.

If the producers of Bridget Jones’s Baby had wanted a subtitle, they could have taken one from the 1968 Zombies hit “Time of the Season.” Who’s Your Daddy?

Still a “singleton” after all these years, Bridget is encouraged by a friend to indulge in a one-night fling at a music festival with “the first man she meets.” She does. Six days later, she’s reunited with her ex- at a Christening and they spend the night together as well. She heads back to real life only to realize a few weeks later that one of her lovers left a little of himself behind. (Damn those expired, organic, dolphin-friendly condoms!) The question is . . . which one?

Both potential papas rise to the occasion, which sets the stage for several funny scenes as each tries to prove he’ll make the better father. Bridget, meanwhile, hides her baby bump and throws up in trashcans while coping with her job as a news producer (working for a team of unbearable millennials who want to attract more eyeballs by burying hard news and promoting viral sensations like, “Cats who look like Hitler’). When her waters eventually break, the trio’s madcap trip to the hospital is completely ridiculous but undeniably funny. As is the delivery itself. With the baby born, they can at last determine who the father is. And, the movie ends (as these movies tend to do), with a happy ending all around — predictable but satisfying. Which can be said about the movie itself.