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!
Every Day My Neighbor Would Deliberately Knock over My Trash Can Until One Day He Seriously Regretted It
When Rachel – a new mom – breaks her leg, taking out the trash becomes a daily battle… only to be made worse by her petty neighbor’s cruel games. But grief has made her stronger than she looks. With a plan as savage as it is satisfying, Rachel’s about to teach him what happens when you mistake kindness for weakness.
I’m still shaking as I write this. Half from laughing and half from finally feeling seen after months of being treated like garbage.
Here’s the full story of how my petty neighbor finally got the lesson he deserved.
A tired woman with a messy bun | Source: Midjourney
I’m Rachel. I’m 35, I’m a new mom… and I’m also a new widow. My son Caleb is barely six months old, and he’s my entire world.
He’s also the only reason that I didn’t completely fall apart after losing my husband, Eric, the day after Caleb was born.
Eric died rushing home from a business trip, desperate to see me and to hold his son for the first time. He promised he would be there by morning, that he’d be the first to kiss Caleb’s tiny forehead. I still remember the way my phone rang that night.
A sleeping baby boy | Source: Midjourney
It was too loud, too sharp… the sound shattering the fragile bubble of hope I had wrapped around myself.
A semi ran a red light.
That was all it took.
One second I was making plans for our new life, literally planning our first photoshoot with Caleb. The next second, I was staring at a blank ceiling, a newborn tucked against my chest, feeling the weight of the world collapsing inward.
A scene of a car crash | Source: Midjourney
The hospital walls felt too white, too hollow. Nurses spoke in hushed tones around me but their words blurred into static. I clutched Caleb closer, inhaling the warm, milky scent of his hair, willing myself not to scream.
Grief cracked open inside me like an earthquake but I couldn’t fall apart. There wasn’t time. Caleb needed me.
He cried. I soothed. He wailed. I sang broken lullabies. He fed. I wiped tears from both our cheeks. He grew, a little more every day. And I survived, clumsily, painfully… but fiercely.
A woman laying in a hospital bed | Source: Midjourney
No one tells you that grief isn’t a tidal wave that knocks you over once. It’s a slow, relentless drip, folding onesies alone at midnight, scrubbing dried formula from bottles, counting the heartbeats between a baby’s cries.
It’s fighting to stay awake when all you want is to disappear.
Two months ago, life found a new way to test me. A slick puddle of spilled formula, a misstep, and a sickening crack. I slipped, slammed onto the floor, and broke my leg.
A pile of baby clothing on a bed | Source: Midjourney
Full cast. Crutches. No driving. No hauling trash bins behind the backyard gate like the Home Owners Association demanded. It was just another fresh battle I hadn’t asked for and had no choice but to win.
Trash piled up fast. I mean, diapers, wipes, empty formula cans, crumpled baby food jars sticky with pureed peas and peaches. It smelled like sour milk and exhaustion. Every time I hobbled past the growing mountain, a wave of shame hit me.
Mike, my brother-in-law, came over one evening after work. He was armed with boxes of pizza and a pack of diapers. He took one look at me wrestling with a trash bag while wobbling on crutches, and quietly moved the bin up front, right by the porch.
A box of pizza on a dining table | Source: Midjourney
It wasn’t pretty but it was survival. Temporary, ugly… necessary.
I even taped a little note to the bin:
“Injury recovery! Sorry! Thank you for understanding.”
Most neighbors smiled when they passed. Some waved. Marcy from next door even stopped to offer help, her hand resting briefly on my arm, a soft, unspoken kindness.
A green bin on a porch | Source: Midjourney
But not Mr. Peterson.
He lived across the street, a man who treated the HOA handbook like it was a holy text. Lawn too long? Glare. Package on the porch? An anonymous complaint. Kids’ laughter too loud? A call to the non-emergency line at full volume.
He didn’t just dislike chaos. He despised signs of human life. The first time he saw my trash can out front, he sneered like he’d smelled something rancid. His poodle yipped uselessly at my steps.
“Maybe if you didn’t leave your trash out like a slob, Rachel,” he muttered, shooting me a sideways look. “Then maybe the neighborhood wouldn’t look like a dump.”
A frowning older man wearing a black cap | Source: Midjourney
I clenched the crutch under my arm so hard it squeaked but managed to stay polite.
“I physically can’t manage the back gate,” I said, my voice tight.
He snorted and kept walking, his poodle’s nails clicking across the sidewalk.
A poodle sitting on a porch | Source: Midjourney
The next morning, I found my trash can knocked over. Diapers, wipes, formula cans, all scattered like battlefield debris across my lawn and halfway up the porch steps.
At first, I blamed raccoons.
But when Marcy caught me struggling to pick up a leaking diaper bag, she just shook her head.
Two raccoons sitting outside | Source: Midjourney
“We haven’t had raccoons around here in years,” she said quietly, a frown tugging at the corners of her mouth.
“Seriously? You’re sure?” I frowned.
“Yeah, Rach,” she said, sipping her coffee and watching Caleb bounce in his stroller. “Peterson trapped them all. I kid you not.”
A frowning woman with a cup of coffee | Source: Midjourney
Suspicion burned in my chest. I couldn’t believe it, not at first. I mean, who targets a widow with a newborn?
But I needed to know for sure.
Mike mounted a small trail camera onto the big pine tree in our front yard, angling it right at the trash can.
A camera mounted on a tree | Source: Midjourney
Two nights later, it was clear.
Grainy footage flickered across Mike’s laptop screen, black and white and slightly crooked but clear enough.
There he was.
Mr. Peterson, glancing around like a cartoon villain, striding across the street with the stiff arrogance of someone who thought he’d never get caught. He paused, adjusted the leash on his poodle, then marched right up to my trash can and gave it a hard, deliberate kick.
A man standing outside wearing a cap and robe | Source: Midjourney
The bin toppled over in an ugly crash.
He stood there for a moment afterward, surveying his work with a smirk so smug it made my stomach turn.
I wasn’t just mad. I was exhausted.
Every morning, I dragged my broken body down those porch steps, balanced on crutches and knelt awkwardly in the grass to scoop up the evidence of having a six-month-old baby in the house. Some mornings, Caleb would wail from his crib, his tiny voice slicing through the baby monitor stuck onto my gown.
Trash on a porch step | Source: Midjourney
It wasn’t just trash he’d scattered across my lawn and porch. It was my dignity.
I had every excuse to go nuclear. To file police reports, flood the HOA inbox, post the footage across the neighborhood Facebook page…
But something colder settled deep in my bones. I didn’t want to just punish him. I wanted to teach him a lesson.
A laptop on a desk | Source: Midjourney
Mike and I sat at the kitchen table the next morning. My sister had gone away on business and had instructed Mike to stay with me.
“Kate went on about how I should step in and help you, Rach,” he said as we nursed bitter coffee, dark circles under both our eyes. “To be honest, I know she just wanted to make sure that you fed me while I helped you take care of the house.”
“I’m grateful, Mike,” I said. “And you being here gives me an excuse to actually cook. Do you know how much fun I had making lasagne last night?! Turns out that toasted cheese sandwiches don’t really count as cooking.”
A tray of lasagne | Source: Midjourney
Mike chuckled and handed me a plate of toaster waffles.
“Eat, sister,” he said. “We have to figure out what we’re going to do about the old man next door.”
Caleb babbled in his highchair, blissfully unaware of the battle plans unfolding around him.
First, we zip tied the trash can to the porch railing, not too tight that it couldn’t open but enough that it would fight back.
A plate of waffles | Source: Midjourney
Next, I emptied the bin and lined it with an industrial-strength trash bag.
Then came the masterpiece.
I had about ten pounds of rotting, wet, stinking diapers I’d been stockpiling since we discovered Mr. Peterson’s late-night activities. They were all in sealed freezer bags, each one more horrifying than the last. Sour formula, mashed peas, stomach-turning smells trapped and waiting.
At the very top, I tucked in another note:
“Smile for the camera, neighbor. You’ve earned it!”
Sour formula and peas in a freezer bag | Source: Midjourney
That night, I barely slept. I lay in bed, the baby monitor buzzing faintly beside me, heart pounding like I was planning a heist.
At around 6 A.M. the camera blinked awake.
It was showtime.
Mr. Peterson marched across the street like he was on a mission from God himself. He gave the can a solid kick.
An older man standing on a driveway | Source: Midjourney
Instead of the can tipping over neatly, the zip tie caught his foot, tripping him forward into the porch railing. There was a sound, half grunt, half shriek, as he face-planted hard enough to rattle the steps.
And then?
The bag burst.
Ten pounds of toxic diaper stew exploded all over his shirt, pants, and shoes. Formula remnants. Diaper juice. Wipes sticking to his chest like sad little battle scars.
A close up of a shocked man | Source: Midjourney
He gagged violently. He slipped on the mess. He scrambled upright, wild-eyed and dripping.
And just when it couldn’t get better, his friend from down the block stepped outside to grab the morning paper.
The neighbor’s jaw dropped. Mr. Peterson locked eyes with him across the street, humiliated beyond words, before hobbling back home dripping in defeat… and dirt.
A shocked man standing in his yard | Source: Midjourney
I sat inside, Caleb gurgling softly on the baby monitor, laughing so hard I nearly slid off the couch.
Less than an hour later, a hesitant knock rattled my door.
I grabbed the monitor and limped over, opening it carefully.
There stood Mr. Peterson, looking less like a neighborhood tyrant and more like a shamed, soggy golden retriever.
A woman sitting on her bed and laughing | Source: Midjourney
He cleared his throat, his eyes fixed firmly on his own shoes.
“Rachel…” he mumbled, his voice scratchy. “I realize I may have been… too harsh about the trash can situation. I’d like to, um… offer to help move it to the back for you.”
I smiled sweetly, tucking the baby monitor against my chest.
“That’s kind of you, Mr. Peterson,” I said. “But I think I’ll keep it here for a little while longer. For convenience, you know.”
An older man standing on a porch | Source: Midjourney
He nodded, his face red, and backed away like I was radioactive.
He never touched my trash again.
Soon after, another little gift arrived. This time, in the mail.
Two weeks later, an official-looking letter from the HOA landed in everyone’s mailbox. Thick paper, heavy ink, the kind of envelope you don’t ignore.
A red mailbox | Source: Midjourney
Apparently, someone had reported multiple homes for improperly storing their trash cans out front.
Including Mr. Peterson’s.
The HOA didn’t waste any time. They slapped him with a $200 fine, a polite but firm warning to “maintain community standards.”
The best part?
An envelope propped against a frame | Source: Midjourney
I was exempt from it all. Thanks to a letter of exception I had quietly secured weeks earlier from the HOA president herself. She had twins and she knew all about juggling screaming infants, diaper blowouts, and the impossible weight of motherhood when your body simply can’t do it all.
So while Mr. Peterson paid $200 and probably stewed about it every time he opened his mailbox… I didn’t have to pay a cent.
The next warm afternoon, with the late spring sun curling lazily over the rooftops, I pulled a chair onto the porch. Caleb napped upstairs, his tiny chest rising and falling in a steady, perfect rhythm on the baby monitor beside me.
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
I propped my crutches neatly against the rail and set a glass of lemonade on the side table. The glass sweated fat droplets, leaving little halos on the wood.
Across the street, Mr. Peterson shuffled down his driveway, head bowed low, pretending not to see me.
I watched him pass with a slow, deliberate sip, the ice in my glass clinking softly.
It wasn’t just about trash cans. Or dirty diapers. Or even the HOA letters.
A glass of lemonade | Source: Midjourney
It was about everything the world had hurled at me, grief, loneliness, shattered dreams, and the stubborn decision to survive anyway.
It was about every single morning I’d dragged myself out of bed when all I wanted was to disappear. About holding onesies with shaking hands. About holding a newborn and pretending I wasn’t terrified.
It was about making sure, once and for all, that nobody, nobody, would ever mistake kindness for weakness again.
Especially not a petty man who thought a broken woman was an easy target.
Not in this lifetime. Not ever again.
A smiling woman holding a happy baby | Source: Midjourney
What would you have done?
If you’ve enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you:
When Nancy’s landlord demanded she and her three daughters vacate their rental home for a week, she thought life couldn’t get worse. But a surprise meeting with the landlord’s brother revealed a shocking betrayal.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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