- Harry AnderS -
Dutch psychotherapist and alternative writer


The wonderful adventures of a little Gypsy boy

Born as a Prince 1
'Heir to the Throne'
- by Harry AnderS -

A children's series of stories



Chapter 1 ended with:

    I tried to thank them politely, but the only things that left my mouth were small air bubbles and a lot of saliva...
My Dad saw me drooling, and started to laugh at my idle tries to talk.
He handed me to my Mom, and asked her to take me back to our caravan and clean me up.
Of course, I started to cry, because I wanted to join the fun outside for a much longer time!
I was also a bit angry, because I was too small to be able to make myself clear; and I felt frustrated, because my too immature body refused to do what I told it to do...

    My Mom took me in her arms, and carried me back to our black-and-golden caravan.
She cleaned my face, applied a fresh diaper, and put me in between my pillows.
Within half a minute, I was sound asleep, dreaming of a beautiful future and being able to speak.


Chapter 2. My arms and legs, my abilities, real love, and crawling.

    The next couple of weeks, I had the most exciting time of my life.
I was able to discover so many new things in such a short time...
First, I taught myself how to focus my eyes properly, so that I was able to see more clearly.
Soon, my curious eyes followed everything that was moving or making sounds!
Then, I started to discover the muscles that controlled my body.
From now on, my limbs tried to follow my commands, at least more or less.

    I started to play with my arms, and curiously moved them up and down...
Suddenly, I discovered something new: At the end of my arms were interesting things, and I was able to move them too!
Especially one thing, called a 'thumb', which I could manipulate so that it touched my mouth, and with a little probing even entered it.
I started to suck on it; and, even when it didn't resemble the soft and yummy thing that was called my Mom's 'breast', it could do as a substitute for a while...

    At the far end of my body, I discovered another pair of interesting things that resembled my arms.
I found out how to steer their muscles and, after a moment of trying, I was able to move my 'legs' too.
I could even touch my face with my 'big toe', and enthusiastically started to suck on it.

    My Dad looked at me, saw me sucking on my big toe, and started to bellow with laughter...
The sudden sound scared me. I let my big toe flip out of my mouth, and started to cry.
    My Dad looked a bit ashamed, and took me into his powerful arms:

    "Please; don't cry, my little son. I didn't want to scare you. It was just such a funny sight, and I couldn't help the laughing."


    Even though when I couldn't speak myself --and I had already tried that many times-- I was able to understand what he meant with those strange sounds that came from his mouth.
I sensed the energy of his words, and knew instinctively what they stood for!
I stopped my crying abruptly, and stared at him in wonder.
Did he know I could understand him, just by sensing the energy of his words?
I tried to tell him how I did it, but again the only things that escaped my mouth were air bubbles and saliva...

    My Dad cleaned my mouth with a napkin and laid me down between my pillows, still trying to suppress his laughter.
I was frustrated about my inability to steer my too small and still immature little body properly, and started to cry again.
Why did everything have to be so difficult for a newly born little boy?
Wasn't there an easier way?


    Many people visited our caravan during those first weeks; and all of them wanted to see me, their newborn little Prince...
I LOVED being taken out of my pillows and cuddled on a lap or in two safe arms.
I always immediately started to smile at them, and that caused them to smile back at me and 'love' me.
From the first day on, I discovered that smiling caused them to 'love' me more than crying did!
Maybe I acted a little bit 'manipulative'; but I didn't know that word, or what it meant, for a long time...

    Of course, I knew the difference between the kind of 'love' they were using, and the REAL love radiating from my parents, my grandmother, and a couple of others who really cared for me.
They made me feel all warm and mushy inside, and with them I felt absolutely safe and cared for.
With them, I could be myself and cry whenever I felt the urge to expand my lungs, without any fear of being rejected.

    I HATED being belittled or treated as a small child.
Didn't those visitors see I was an old soul, temporarily living in an immature little body?
They didn't need to use those silly childish words, as I was able to sense what they were saying anyway!
Just wait until I've discovered how to properly use my own voice...

    Again, a few visitors entered our caravan, and tried to tell me the silly things that were making me so angry.
I felt frustrated, stopped my smiling, looked at them, and tried to send them a message...
    The visitors didn't understand why I wasn't smiling any more, and reacted surprised:

    "Look at that little wiseacre! Why does he look so angry all of a sudden? His eyes are shooting daggers... Hey, you little tinywiny, gugugugu..."

    I knew what I had to do to teach them a lesson... I pooped my diaper!
Within a few seconds, the visitors sniffed the air and didn't care about me any more.
They didn't REALLY love me.
My Mom took over, cleaned me up, and tenderly attached another warmed diaper.
SHE did!

    I seemed to use two different kinds of crying to express myself.
One kind of crying, I seemed to use when I was frustrated about something, or when I wanted my parents to take me out of my small bed, or when I was just bored and wanted to have their attention.
    Then, my Dad and my Mom both smiled, and told each other:

    "Let our little boy cry for a while. That helps him develop his lungs."

    The other type of crying, I seemed to use when I was hungry, or had soiled my diaper and it started to itch, or I really didn't feel too well.
Then, immediately my Dad or my Mom were there to look after me, clean me up, or call for the Wise Woman to heal me.
How did they know the difference?
I tried out several different ways of crying, but couldn't find the right way to catch their immediate attention.
Now I was frustrated, and cried because I couldn't use this way to manipulate them...

    "Listen to our little Harry! He's frustrated about something, and now he's developing his lungs."



    After a while, I started to recognize all the different energies around the people I loved, and who loved me.
I could clearly distinguish my Dad's energy from my Mom's, or from my grandmother's, or from a lot of other people who were regularly visiting us.
Most of the time, I was even able to feel their intention to pay us a visit...
Many times, I knew they would enter our caravan at least ten seconds before they actually opened the door or knocked on it.

    At first, my parents didn't understand why I suddenly became excited ten seconds before somebody I liked entered our caravan...
However, after a while they got used to it and accepted my strange abilities.
Often, they went to the door to open it and let our stunned visitors in, even before they had actually reached our caravan!

    "How did you know I was on my way to pay you a visit?"

    "Little Harold told us, by getting excited. We think he has a clairvoyant ability."

    "That's very special! Do you think he will become our new Wise Man?"

    "It will certainly be of great help when in the future he is our new King."

    Now and then, the man I liked most of all, besides my own Dad, entered our caravan.
He was a really HUGE man, always wearing some fur coat, both in summer and in winter.
He had to duck his head to enter the doorway and, once he was inside, his powerful energy filled our caravan and engulfed everybody, including me.
I LOVED to sit on that man's lap and be cuddled in his strong arms!

    I felt his energy enter our caravan long before he opened the door...
Of course, I started to jump up and down, trying to make enthusiastic sounds.
    My Mom saw my excitement, smiled, and went to the door to open it:

    "Hi Michail, didn't you bring your betrothed with you?"

    Michail laughed, and sat down onto the couch that moaned under his weight.
I tried to stretch my arms out as far as I could, fidgeting and hoping to get his attention...
My Mom smiled, lifted me from my cushions, and put me onto Michail's lap.
Yes, that was what I wanted!
I tried to melt into my Big Friend, and enjoyed the safe feeling of his strong arms around me.
I loved that man with all my heart, and with REAL love!
He stroked my face with his enormous hands, and tried to kiss my small nose.
His moustache made me sneeze, but I loved even that.

    Sometimes, he brought his girlfriend, and then I had to sit on her lap too.
SHE didn't radiate that enormous power I so cherished in my Big Friend...
Mostly, I laughed at her first, and then stretched my arms out towards Michail.
That always helped...
She felt a bit turned down, and put me onto Michail's lap with a sour face.
Michail didn't disapprove; and I had what I wanted.
Manipulative? Hmm...

    This day, Michail was alone, and I loved all the attention I got, squirming around on his lap.
He had to sit me down onto the couch to be able to drink his coffee, but I wanted to be with him and sit on his lap some more!
I tried to move closer, and let myself fall onto my stomach.
Slowly, I pushed myself up, using both my arms and my legs...
Suddenly, I discovered how I could crawl towards him!
Wow, that was what I had been trying to do for a long time.
I started to move my arms and legs back and forth, and slowly moved towards my Big Friend, proudly smiling from ear to ear...

    My parents were stunned, and looked at me in awe:

    "Look, our little Harold is already crawling! Now it's time to bring him to our Wise Woman, to be read."


Thank you for reading the next chapter of my story 'Born as a Prince 1'.
This is the first book of the series, called 'Heir to the Throne'. Many more books will follow...

Enjoy the reading, and help us make our world to be a better place!

I would LOVE to receive your comments...
Harry AnderS, Dutch psychotherapist and alternative writer.