Is it just me or are Prince George, Princess Charlotte, and Prince Louis growing up fast? George, of course, will become king one day, while Charlotte and Louis’ royal lives will likely entail a lot of exciting things. For now, naturally, the most important thing is that they get to remain kids, and Prince William and Kate Middleton appear to be very aware of that.
At the same time, as the three royal children are quietly getting older behind the walls of their royal abode, across the Atlantic in the US their cousins are doing the same thing behind the walls of a multimillion-dollar mansion. Prince Archie and Princess Lilibet live far from the British press, but their parents, Prince Harry and Meghan Markle, have ensured that their children remain hot topics of conversation through their various actions.
Sadly, it’s been reported that Prince George, Princess Charlotte, and Prince Louis have lost contact with their uncle Harry, with whom George and Charlotte had formed a strong bond before he left the Royal Family for good.
That’s something that might soon return to haunt Prince William and Kate Middleton, with a royal expert now painting a sad verdict on what could be coming next.
Prince Harry was the happiest uncle in the world when he heard the news of Prince George’s birth in 2013. By his own admission, Harry saw himself visiting for daily play dates and quality time, but in his book, Spare, the Duke gave the impression that he had been essentially closed off by William and Kate and was “never invited” over.
“I took it for granted that I would be invited to their house at any moment. But the days went by, and it didn’t happen,” he explained. “I understand, I thought. They’re busy! Building a family! Or maybe… three’s a crowd. Maybe if I get married things will change,” Harry wrote in Spare.
Prince Harry’s relationship with Prince George, Princess Charlotte & Prince Louis
Two years later William and Kate welcomed Princess Charlotte, and Harry was able to create a bond with his nephew and niece. Prince Louis, though, was only two years old when the Duke left the UK behind, and it’s quite clear that the youngest of the Prince and Princess of Wales’ children doesn’t have any real connection to Harry.
That said, Harry has made it clear that he wants to be a part of the children’s lives. Not only that, but another sad part of his “exile” is that his children, Prince Archie and Princess Lilibet, have pretty much never seen their cousins.
As mentioned, Louis has never experienced the sort of relationship with his uncle Harry that his elder siblings did, simply because he was too young. But when the young prince was christened, Harry went to lengths to ensure he gave his youngest nephew a great present.
When Louis was christened, Harry put in plenty of work to get the perfect gift. Looking back, he remembered how his mother, Princess Diana, had a great passion for collecting first editions. Therefore, Harry wanted to start a new chapter with his nephews and nieces, thereby keeping the tradition alive.
“One of Harry’s happiest childhood memories was being read a bedtime story by his mother. She loved all the old classics, and Harry had the brilliant idea of starting a little library of first editions for Louis, Charlotte, and George to enjoy as they get older,” a close source told the Daily Record.
Prince Harry’s special gift to Prince Louis was inspired by his mother
Harry went shopping and bought an original edition of A. A. Milne’s Winnie the Pooh. It cost him about £8,000 ($10,000).
It was previously reported Harry opted for a rare copy from the initial print run of 30,000 copies in 1926.
“He originally wanted to get Lewis Carroll’s Through The Looking Glass, which was on sale for £24,000, but decided Winnie-The-Pooh would be more suitable for a first tome. Robinson Crusoe was William’s favorite book, but Harry loved all things A.A. Milne,” the source continued.
But while Harry undoubtedly adores his brother’s children, sadly, he also harbors concerns. In an interview with The Telegraph to promote his book, the Duke stated his worries about Princess Charlotte and Prince Louis becoming “spares” just like him.
“Though William and I have talked about it once or twice, and he has made it very clear to me that his kids are not my responsibility, I still feel a responsibility knowing that out of those three children, at least one will end up like me, the spare,” Harry said.
“And that hurts, that worries me.”
Harry continued: “I was brought into the world in case something happened to Willy, I was summoned to provide backup, distraction, diversion and, if necessary, a spare part. Kidney, perhaps. Blood transfusion. Speck of bone marrow. This was all made explicitly clear to me from the start of life’s journey and regularly reinforced thereafter.”
Prince William & Kate Middleton “aware” of possibly ‘Spare’ problems
At the time, royal expert Ingrid Seward criticized Harry for his words about Charlotte and Louis, saying he should” lay off Prince William’s children.”
But even though Harry might have his worries, recent reports state that Prince William and Kate Middleton have everything under control.
Speaking with the Mirror, royal expert Jennie Bond says that the Prince and Princess of Wales “must be acutely aware” of the problems that could come with Prince Louis — and Princess Charlotte — becoming “spare.”
“They have already shown that they have a different and modern attitude to bringing up royal children and I’m sure they will do everything to make Charlotte and Louis feel every bit as special, loved and valued as George,” Bond told the Mirror.
“I imagine they will encourage Louis to explore life outside the royal fold… it could be the military, but it could also be working in the charity world or whatever he finds appealing after his education is finished. I’m sure they will encourage him to go to University, which they both enjoyed and where, of course, they found love.”
The royal expert continued: “And from there they will want him to find a life that is meaningful to him as well as appropriate for the son of a future King. They will try to ensure that he feels he is living a life of value, irrespective of his place in the line of succession and that will probably involve service of some kind as they have emphasised from the start that they want their children to understand that having empathy with others is not only a kindness, but is rewarding as well.”
Prince Louis could have ‘own career’ outside royal spotlight, expert says
As Bond suggested, William and Kate might encourage Louis to try new things and find his passion outside of royal life. Should he opt to remain in the royal fold, meanwhile, he will likely be handed a crucial senior role within the monarchy and significant titles.
But Bond isn’t the only one predicting that Prince Louis could do more than just royal engagements. In an interview with OK!, per Yahoo, Camilla Tominey, royal expert and associate editor at The Telegraph, claimed Prince William and Kate Middleton would want Charlotte and Louis to “have their own careers” if they’d prefer it.
“[William & Kate] don’t want history to repeat itself and Prince Louis seem like a royal hanger-on and go down the Duke of York path,” she told the Telegraph.
“A lot of the more minor royals have got careers of their own so they aren’t really being tax payer funded,” she continued. “The extent to which the Cambridges have tried to normalise the lives of their children very much points in the direction of – yes, Prince George has his destiny mapped out but Princess Charlotte and Louis’ having their own careers?’”
Tominey concluded: “They’ve got to get the balance right of what their own children want to do with their lives and their royal commitments.”
“We might be seeing fewer royals in the future than we’re used to. But the question is, are there going to be enough royals to go around?”
“In their family it would never be the ‘heir and spare’”
In an interview with Hello! Magazine, parenting expert Jo Frost said that the Prince and Princess of Wales would never allow Princess Charlotte and Prince Louis to become” heir and spare” to their older brother, Prince George.
“I think William and Catherine understand the importance of nurturing the sibling relationships between the three of them,” Frost said.
“Dare I say it, in their family it would never be the ‘heir and spare’. It would be about the importance of all of them. The understanding that it really takes a team, with the important roles in upholding the crown and the monarchy.”
The relationship expert added: “And so, we’re seeing these very early seeds now, with respect to what it means to support each other and to nurture together.”
While Prince George and Princess Charlotte surely have recollections and great memories of spending time with Harry, Louis does not. Whether the kids know exactly why their uncle isn’t around anymore is unknown – but that could soon change.
Speaking to GB News, royal commentator Lydia Alty stated that the three royal children are ‘likely asking questions’ about Harry and what really happened when he left.
Prince Louis and his siblings are ‘likely asking questions” about Prince Harry
“Prince Harry used to be close to his brother, Prince William. He was also very close to Prince William’s wife, the Princess of Wales and their children, Prince George, Princess Charlotte and Prince Louis,” she said.
“Harry was even close to his father, despite reports and claims from him that he wasn’t. Now that the royals have all split up and, as far as we know, not talking, this will have affected George, Charlotte and Louis.”
Lydia Alty concluded: “His nephews and niece will probably be wondering why they haven’t seen their uncle and cousins.”
Do you think Prince Louis will become a working Royal Family member or move on to another career? Please share this article with friends and family and give us your opinion!
Neighbor Kept Knocking Over My Trash Bins – After 3 HOA Fines, I Taught Him a Lesson in Politeness
When Elise’s trash bins became the target of her bitter neighbor’s antics, she was ready for a fight. But instead of confrontation, she served up banana bread and kindness. What began as a quiet war turned into an unexpected friendship, proving that sometimes, the best revenge is compassion.
When my husband, James, passed away two years ago, I thought I’d weathered the worst storm of my life. Raising three boys, Jason (14), Luke (12), and little Noah (9), on my own wasn’t easy. But we’d eventually found our rhythm.
The house buzzed with the sound of schoolwork being explained, sibling banter, and an endless rotation of chores. We kept the garden alive, argued over who had dish duty, and made a life together that was equal parts chaotic and beautiful.
Things were finally steady. Manageable.
Until the neighbor decided to wage war on my trash bins.
At first, I thought it was the wind or a stray dog. Every trash day, I’d wake up to see the bins overturned, their contents scattered across the street like confetti.
“Bloody hell,” I muttered the next time I saw it. “Not again.”
I’d have no choice but to grab a pair of gloves, a broom, new trash bags, and start cleaning up before the Home Owners Association could swoop in with another fine.
Three fines in two months. The HOA weren’t playing fair. In fact, they’d made it very clear that they weren’t taking my excuses anymore.
But one Tuesday morning, coffee steaming in my hand, I caught him red-handed. From my living room window, I watched as my neighbor, Edwin, a 65-year-old man who lived alone, strolled across the street.
He didn’t even hesitate. With one swift motion, he tipped over my bins and shuffled back to his house like nothing had happened.
My blood boiled.
I was halfway to grabbing my shoes when Noah bounded down the stairs, asking for help with his math homework.
“Mom, please! It’s just two questions. Remember we were talking about it when you were doing dinner last night and we said we’d come back to it but we didn’t,” he rambled.
“Of course, come on,” I said. “I’ll get you some orange juice, and then we can work on that quickly.”
Homework first, trash war later.
The following week, I stood guard.
This time, I was ready.
And sure enough, there he was at 7:04 a.m., knocking the bins down with a strange sort of satisfaction before retreating inside.
That was it. Enough was enough.
I stormed across the street, adrenaline pumping. His porch was stark, no welcome mat, no potted plants, just peeling paint and drawn blinds. I raised my fist to knock, but something stopped me.
The quiet. The stillness of it all.
I hesitated, hand frozen mid-air. What was I even going to say?
“Stop knocking over my bins, you old lunatic?”
Would that even fix anything?
I went home, fuming but thoughtful. What kind of person gets up at the crack of dawn just to mess with their neighbor?
Someone angry. Someone lonely. Someone in pain, maybe?
“You’re just going to let him get away with it?” Jason asked that night, arms crossed and clearly ready to fight for me. “He’s walking all over us, Mom.”
“I’m not letting him get away with anything, love,” I replied, tapping the side of the mixing bowl as I stirred. “I’m showing him that there’s a better way.”
“And when baked goods don’t work, Mom?” Jason asked, eyeing the banana bread batter in the bowl.
“Then, my little love, I’ll set you on him. Do we have a deal?”
My son grinned and then nodded.
But it was during dinner prep, while I was putting together a lasagna, that I thought… instead of fighting fire with fire, what if I fought with something… unexpected?
The next week, I didn’t stand guard.
Instead, I baked.
Banana bread first, specifically James’ favorite recipe. The smell brought back memories I hadn’t let myself linger on in a long time. I wrapped the loaf in foil, tied it with a piece of twine, and left it on Edwin’s porch.
No note, no explanation. Just bread.
For a few days, the banana bread sat untouched on his porch. The bins stayed upright, but I still wasn’t sure what was going through his head.
The next morning, the foil-wrapped loaf was gone. A good sign, maybe.
Emboldened, I doubled down.
A casserole followed the banana bread. Then a bowl of chicken noodle soup.
Days turned into weeks, and not once did I see him open the door or acknowledge the food. But he didn’t tip the bins again, either.
“Mom, you’re going soft,” Jason said one evening, eyeing the plate of cookies I was about to deliver.
“No, I’m not,” I replied, slipping on my sneakers. “I’m being strategic.”
The cookies did the trick. That Saturday, as I placed them on the porch, the door creaked open.
“What do you want?” he asked.
I turned to find him peering out, his face lined with age and what looked like years of solitude. He didn’t look angry. Just… tired.
“I made too many cookies,” I said, holding up the plate like a peace offering.
He stared at me for a long moment, then sighed.
“Fine. Come in.”
The inside of his house was dim but surprisingly tidy. Bookshelves lined every wall, stacked high with novels, photo albums, and other trinkets. He motioned for me to sit on the worn sofa, and after a moment of awkward silence, he spoke.
“My wife passed four years ago,” he began, his voice halting. “Cancer. After that, my kids… well, they moved on with their lives. Haven’t seen much of them since.”
I nodded, letting him take his time.
“I’d see you with your boys,” he continued. “Laughing, helping each other. It… hurt. Made me angry, even though it wasn’t your fault. Tipping the bins was stupid, I know. I just didn’t know what to do with it all.”
“You don’t just walk over to your neighbors and tell them you’re miserable,” he said, shaking his head. “That’s not how I was raised. You bottle it up and deal with it.”
His voice cracked on the last word, and I felt my frustration melt away. This wasn’t about trash bins. It was about grief. About loneliness.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his head bowed.
“I forgive you,” I replied, meaning every word.
“I don’t even know your name,” he said.
“Elise,” I said. “And I know you’re Edwin. My husband mentioned you once or twice.”
Then, I invited him to join my Saturday book club at the library. He looked at me like I’d suggested he jump off a bridge.
“Book club? With strangers!”
“They’re not strangers,” I said. “Not really. They’re neighbors. Friends you haven’t met yet.”
It took some convincing, but the following Saturday, Edwin shuffled into the library, hands stuffed in his pockets. He didn’t say much that first meeting, but he listened.
By the third, he was recommending novels and trading jokes with the other members.
The real turning point came when one of the ladies, Victoria, a spry widow in her seventies, invited him to her weekly bridge game. He accepted.
From then on, he wasn’t just my cranky neighbor. He was Edwin, the guy who brought homemade scones to book club and always had a dry one-liner up his sleeve.
The bins stayed upright. The HOA fines stopped.
And Edwin? He wasn’t alone anymore.
One evening, as I watched him laughing with Victoria and the other bridge players on her porch, Jason came up beside me.
“Guess you weren’t soft after all,” he said, grinning.
“No,” I said, smiling as I ruffled his hair. “Sometimes, the best revenge is just a little kindness.”
And in that moment, I realized something: We weren’t just helping Edwin heal. He was helping us, too.
The first time Edwin came over for dinner, he looked like he didn’t know what to do with himself. He showed up holding a bottle of sparkling cider like it was a rare treasure. His shirt was freshly ironed, but he still tugged at the collar as if it might strangle him at any moment.
“You didn’t have to bring anything,” I said warmly.
He shrugged, his lips twitching into something that resembled a smile.
“Didn’t want to come empty-handed, Elise,” he said. “It’s polite.”
The boys were setting the table, Noah carefully placing forks, Luke arranging the glasses, and Jason lighting a candle in the center. They glanced at Edwin curiously, a little wary.
Dinner was simple but comforting: roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and honey-glazed carrots, with a loaf of crusty bread and gravy on the side. It wasn’t fancy, but it was one of James’ favorite meals. It was something that always brought warmth to the table, no matter how chaotic the day had been.
“Smells good in here,” Edwin said as he sat down, his eyes darting around like he was trying to take in every detail of the room.
“Mom’s chicken is famous in our family,” Noah piped up proudly, scooping a mountain of mashed potatoes onto his plate. “She makes it the best.”
“High praise,” Edwin said, glancing at me.
We all settled in, and for a while, the only sound was the clink of forks and knives against plates. But soon, the boys started peppering Edwin with questions.
“Do you like chicken or steak better?” Luke asked.
“Chicken,” Edwin replied after a moment of thought. “But only if it’s cooked as well as this.”
Noah giggled.
“What’s your favorite book? Mom says you like to read a lot.”
“That’s a tough one,” Edwin said, rubbing his chin. “Maybe To Kill a Mockingbird. Or Moby Dick.”
Jason, always the skeptic, raised an eyebrow.
“You actually finished Moby Dick?”
That made Edwin laugh, a deep, hearty sound that seemed to surprise even him.
“I won’t lie. It took me a year.”
By dessert, apple pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, Edwin had relaxed completely. The boys were swapping stories about school, and he was chuckling along, even teasing Jason about his upcoming math test.
As I cleared the plates, I glanced over to see Edwin helping Noah cut his pie into bite-sized pieces, patiently showing him the best way to balance the ice cream on the fork. It was such a tender moment, and my heart squeezed a little.
When dinner was over and the boys ran off to finish homework, Edwin lingered in the kitchen, drying dishes as I washed them.
“You have a good family,” he said softly.
“Thank you,” I replied, handing him a plate to dry. “And you’re welcome here anytime. You know that, right?”
He nodded, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.
“I do now.”
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