Giggy, Bubba, and Ryry: Growing Up with My Siblings Growing up with Jenna was… something else. Our nicknames for each other— Giggy for her, Bubba for me—sum up the chaos perfectly. She had ADHD, I had undiagnosed autism, and somehow, we were a perfect storm. Scratches, bruises, pencils thrown near my eye… our fights were epic. And our parents? They just let us go at it. They figured separating us was pointless because we’d just start again the moment the room emptied. Somehow, eventually, we got tired of it. The endless battles faded, and out of that chaos grew a closeness I wouldn’t trade for anything. Jenna isn’t just my sister anymore—her kids feel like mine, and I know we’d both do anything for each other. Then there’s Ryan— Ryry . Five years younger than me, seven younger than Jenna. As a kid, he begged Mom to make me play with him. I never did. Not because I didn’t care, but because I couldn’t. Being autistic, I didn...