The Arrival of a Sibling: How to Turn Your Firstborn into a Tiny Tyrant.

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I've noticed over the years how people talk to kids like they’re about to get evicted from their own lives.

“The baby is growing inside Mama’s tummy.”

That’s code for: “Your reign is over, little man.”  
You were the king. The chosen one. Now? You’re just the warm-up act for a screaming potato.

“Put your hand there you might feel a kick!”

Oh, you mean the first sign of the coup?  
That’s not a kick, that’s a hostile takeover.  
That baby’s in there like, “I’m coming for your toys, your snacks, and your bedtime stories.”

And then they hit you with the truth:

“Soon you won’t be the focus of all our attention.”

Damn. That’s cold.  
That’s like telling your dog, “We’re getting a new puppy, so start learning to live in the shadows.”

And the last line?

“Chances are, that will make you a dick.”

Well yeah! What did you expect?  
You just told a toddler he’s being replaced by a louder, poopier version of himself.  
That’s like telling Batman, “We’re bringing in Robin, but he cries more and gets all the hugs.”

So yeah, he’s gonna act out.  
He’s gonna throw tantrums, break stuff, maybe even pee on the carpet just to reclaim territory.  
That’s not being a dick that’s being human.  
Or at least, being a tiny human with a bruised ego and a carton of juice.


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