How to Survive Your Siblings When They’re Wild 

I have three siblings. 
They are big. 
They are loud. 
And sometimes, they forget I am a person with ears. 

Problem #1: The Yelling 

My brother Marsh talks like the house is on fire, even when we are just picking cereal. 
Once, he said “TOAST” like it was breaking news. 
It scared the dog. 

How I survive: 
I wear my headphones. 
No music. Just peace. 

If Marsh keeps yelling, I go to the bathroom and do not come out until the volume goes back to normal human levels. 
Sometimes I bring snacks in there. It’s called strategy. 

Problem #2: The Violin 

HerShe plays violin. It’s pretty. 
But when she’s mad or concentrating, it turns into what I call “angry bird music.” 

How I survive: 
I hide under the dining table with crayons. 
She says it’s dusty. I say it’s cozy. 

Also, I draw her playing her violin like a superhero. She always smiles when I show her. That’s when it feels safe again. 

Problem #3: The Quiet One 

Mello is quiet. That sounds nice. 
But sometimes quiet people sneak up on you and ask things like, 
“Why are you drawing toast with legs?” 
And then you have to explain your art and feelings and soul. 

How I survive: 
I answer with: 

“Because it’s toast and it can walk.” 
Then I change the subject to lizards. He usually walks away. 

My Secret Tips for Surviving Siblings 

• Pick your battles. Don’t fight over the last pancake. Eat a banana instead. It’s quieter. 
   

• Let them be loud. It means they’re happy. Or weird. Either way, it’s not about you. 
   

• Say something funny. Even if they’re grumpy, a good joke (like “Why did the tomato turn red?”) might save the day. 
   

• Hug them when they don’t expect it. This is risky. Sometimes it works. Sometimes they yell “WHAT ARE YOU DOING” and run away. 
   

• Hide snacks. Always. 
   

Final Thought 

I love my siblings. 
Even when they are wild. 
Even when they forget I like quiet. 
Even when they steal my pillow and say it’s “community property.” 

Because sometimes… 
They invite me to play. 
Or share a bite. 
Or draw with me. 
And it feels like I belong — even if I’m the littlest. 

And that? 
That’s worth the noise.