The Courier & Advertiser (Perth and Perthshire Edition)
Prince Louis’ jubilee tantrum is as close as I can get to being a royal sympathiser
Iam so glad the Platinum Jubilee celebrations are finally over. From the dreary marching to dystopian holograms of the Queen beamed into a golden carriage, the whole thing left me cold.
I’m happy for those who enjoyed it but fawning over the royals is not for me.
In fact the only Queen I recognise is my neighbour Maureen.
At the weekend, she was on fine form. One of the other neighbours procured a magnum bottle of Prosecco that was on offer in Morrisons and the three of us got stuck right in, as Maureen dished out sage advice on my disastrous love life. Long may she reign.
But there was a moment of the Platinum Jubilee festivities that I did find relatable.
It came in the form of the rambunctious Prince Louis and his steadfast refusal to sit still.
The four-year-old made clear from the start that he wasn’t in the mood.
Who can blame him?
The wee man was probably missing an important episode of Paw Patrol as he was forced to wave at crowds of strangers holding up posters of his great-granny’s face.
And his gurning, wriggling, tantruming rebellion against royal protocol was the most entertaining aspect of the whole weekend.
As parents, we’ve all been there, haven’t we? Small children are often a law unto themselves.
They’re not yet old enough to understand the acute social embarrassment their parents feel as they belt out Baby Shark over a couple’s wedding vows or make a bid for freedom under the pews at a christening.
They’re not old enough to feel constrained by the unwritten rules that govern formal occasions.
But they are definitely old enough to cause absolute chaos.
It’s a dangerous combination.
And as entertaining as it is to watch other people’s children run riot, safe in the knowledge that you don’t have to deal with them, I did feel a bit sorry for Kate.
The cameras caught every moment of Louis’ fightback against convention. They also caught her reaction to it. And she would have known it would be that that would be the most scrutinised.
So as she muttered words of warning and threatened to remove his Youtube privileges for a week, she did so with a rictus grin on her face.
Louis, no doubt aware that the power dynamic was in his favour, used that to his advantage and ignored his mum’s pleas.
But as I watched Kate try to maintain a serene, duchess-like demeanour as her son covered her mouth and shouted (I imagine) “You’re not the Queen yet, I don’t have to listen to you’’, I found myself getting annoyed at Prince William.
Throughout the weekend he always seemed to have conveniently placed himself at least three family members away from his unruly son.
I don’t care if your face is destined to be on a 10-pound note one day, you’ve got to share the load, Willie.
Kate was the one in the thick of the action, desperately rummaging in her handbag for sugary bribes or shiny objects that might serve as a distraction.
Meanwhile, for the most part, the future king just kicked back and enjoyed the parades.
I might be projecting a bit because I’m still resentful of a time I experienced a similarly public show of defiance from my wee one.
My daughter was a year younger than Louis is now and we were in Edinburgh Airport on our way back from holiday.
So near, yet so far: my daughter chose that moment to show the terminal just how tired and raging she was.
Her dad flapped about ineffectively for a while as I tried to negotiate terms of ceasefire with our tiny monarch.
Then he edged away to the safety of the suitcases and left me to sit on the floor with our screaming ball of hair and fury, as passers-by gawped in judgment.
William should have been more hands-on, even if just to give Kate a cigarette break.
Her reasons might be different, but I’m sure Kate is just as glad as I am that the Platinum Jubilee is over.
She can go back to the comfort of her house, take a bottle of wine with her into the bath and tell the nannies that she’s not to be disturbed for anything less serious than a broken limb.
Everybody knows that parents love nothing more than unsolicited advice so here’s some for Kate and William.
If the gallus young prince kicks off, drop the pretend smiles: it’s fine to look as harassed as you feel.
Regardless of the occasion, stick the wee man in comfy, normal-people clothes.
Nobody expects children to be dressed like venture capitalists, even those ones that grown adults are expected to bow and curtsey to.
And finally, regardless of title or status, there’s not a parent in the country who hasn’t used technology to get a minute of peace.
I’m sure Kate is just as glad as I am that the celebrations are over