My name is Louie, but everyone I know calls me Loud Louie. That's because my life is filled with girls. My two sisters, Ellie and Claire, and my mom are all girls, of course. Plus the neighbors on my street are girls --except Steve, but he's at college. Even my dog, Ruth, is a girl. Dad says someday I'll love the idea of being surrounded by girls, but I'm pretty sure he's kidding. I mean, if it's so great, why isn't he here with me? Instead, he drives his gigantic yellow truck to faraway places so that big companies can have important supplies.

Dad can be as loud as he wants all day long, and nobody scolds him. I'd much rather do that than be with girls all day.

I think the problem is that girls don't realize just how fun it is to be loud.

For example, do you know that if you're upstairs and run as hard as you can from one end of your house to the other, people in the kitchen and living room think there's thunder outside?

And do you know that if you stop four stairs from the bottom and jump with all your might, lots of dishes and picture frames shake? My mom said, "Try that trick again, my loud little daredevil, and you'll be having some Time Out in your room. That is very dangerous, and you can get hurt!" I told her not to worry --that I was wearing my super hero cape- but she said, "Don't test my patience here, Young Man."

I'm not exactly sure what those words mean when she says them -and she says them a lot- but she uses them in her No Nonsense Mom Voice, so I always just say, "Okay."

When Dad's not driving his gigantic yellow truck --which is really, REALLY loud, by the way-- he and I play outside a lot. He makes monster sounds and chases me, or we pretend we're dinosaurs or have Grunt-And-Growl wrestling matches or sometimes we just make Tarzan yells. He's tried to get me to come with him to tea parties my sisters have --the ones where he dresses up in weird hats like grandpa's and eats pretend food with a napkin on his lap and his pinky sticking up-- but I say, "Sorry, Dad. You're on your own for this one."

Things got bad at our house today because Dad had to go back to work after a long vacation. Mom had a baby --a girl, of course-- so Dad's been home playing with me, taking Claire and Emily to ballet and piano lessons, and feeding Caroline --that's our new sister-- in the middle of the night so Mom can get some rest. So I think Caroline's been missing Dad a lot.

She's been crying and yelling all day, and when Claire and Ellie told her, "Be quiet, Caroline! You sound like Loud Louie," she turned bright red and got way louder than I've ever been.

Then Mom said, "I give up! I want to run away and join the circus where there's way less commotion."

I got so upset by that, that I ran to the upstairs hallway and made thunder, even though I knew I'd probably get yelled at. But, instead, when I stopped, all I heard was laughing --from Caroline! After a minute, she started crying again, so I quickly made more thunder, and that made her laugh again!

"Louie, can you do that to keep Caroline happy while I make dinner?" Mom called up to me.

"Sure!" I exclaimed.

"We'll help, too," shouted Claire and Ellie. And soon, we were all upstairs making the loudest thunder anyone had ever heard, and Caroline was laughing like crazy.

"Let's show her a Grunt-And-Growl wrestling match," I suggested.

Down the stairs the three of us thundered (though we did not stop at the fourth step from the bottom and jump) and made a circle around our baby. Then we took turns grunting and jumping and chasing each other in front of her while Caroline sat in her baby chair, laughing and smiling the entire time. Whenever we stopped, she'd turn red and start to scream, so we just kept going and going.

Finally, I shouted, "I LOVE THIS BABY!"

And Claire shouted, "I LOVE THIS BABY...AND I LOVE MAKING THUNDER AND GRUNTING!"

And Ellie yelled, "I LOVE THIS BABY...AND I LOVE BEING LOUD!"

And then I heard our mom laughing for the first time all day.