We didn’t expect to cause a scene.
It was supposed to be a sweet memory from our vacation in Brighton — a lighthearted neighborhood parade where kids were encouraged to dress up as something “British.” My daughter chose to go all-out as Queen Elizabeth (complete with toy corgis), and my son proudly marched beside her dressed as a royal guard, fuzzy hat and all.
It was a hit.
People laughed, clapped, and even handed out tea biscuits as we passed. My kids were glowing with excitement, and I couldn’t help but feel proud of their creativity and confidence. It felt like one of those golden parenting moments you never forget.
Then we turned a corner, and everything shifted.
An older woman stood on the sidewalk, her expression more serious than the rest of the smiling crowd. As we walked past, she stepped forward and said, “Excuse me.”
I smiled politely, unsure what she wanted.
“I hope you’re not teaching your children to blindly celebrate the monarchy,” she said, her tone calm but pointed.
I blinked. “I’m sorry?”
She went on, gently but firmly expressing concern about encouraging young children to idolize a system that, in her view, represented more than just tradition — one that also carried a long and complicated history.
It was an unexpected moment — one that caught me completely off guard. I looked at my kids, still laughing, completely unaware of the seriousness in this woman’s words.
“I know they’re just playing dress-up,” she said, “but sometimes the symbols we choose carry weight. It’s important they understand that too — someday.”
At first, I felt defensive. My children weren’t making a political statement. They were just having fun, wrapped up in imagination and costumes.
But later that night, I found myself thinking about her words more than I expected.
I did a bit of reading — about the history of the monarchy, the legacy it represents, and the range of views people hold. Some parts were inspiring; others were more complex, even difficult. It reminded me that history is rarely simple, and understanding it fully means being willing to look at all sides — even the uncomfortable ones.
That experience didn’t ruin our parade day. But it changed me in a small, lasting way.
A few months later, my daughter came home from school and asked, “Mom, why do people like the queen so much if some people think she wasn’t always fair?” That moment gave us the perfect opportunity to have an honest, age-appropriate conversation. We talked about history, empathy, different points of view, and how symbols can mean different things to different people.
What started as a day of innocent fun turned into a quiet lesson I hadn’t planned on teaching — and one I hadn’t expected to learn myself.
Parenting is full of surprises. Sometimes, they come dressed as queens and guards in a parade. Other times, they come in the form of a stranger’s words that gently challenge the way you see the world.
I’m learning that I don’t have to have all the answers. I just have to be open to the questions — and to help my children be open too.
If you’ve ever had a moment like that — one that made you pause and reflect — you’re not alone. Growth doesn’t always come from comfort. Sometimes, it starts with a conversation you didn’t expect.
