Let’s Talk About Sibling Dynamics and Disability

There’s this thing about siblings, they have a way of getting under each other’s skin while also being each other’s fiercest protectors. That’s true in any family, but when one sibling has a disability, the dynamic shifts in ways you can’t fully understand until you live it.

If I’m being honest, I’d love to tell you it’s always as beautiful as those perfectly edited Instagram reels, slow-motion hugs, soft music, big smiles. And sometimes, it is like that. But other times? It’s loud. It’s chaotic. It’s basically a WWE match in my living room, complete with dramatic entrances and questionable referee calls. And somehow, at the very same time, it’s wonderfully simple and real.

This is just our story, our version of “brothers.” It’s not the universal blueprint, and I’m in no way, shape, or form saying this is everyone’s dynamic. It’s simply what life looks like under our roof: equal parts tenderness, body slams, and a whole lot of love.

The Normal That’s Anything But

Bo has been an incredible big brother from the very beginning. His younger brother, Bennett, doesn’t move or communicate the way most kids do, but somehow, that hasn’t stopped them from having a very classic big brother–little brother relationship.

Bennett can still annoy Bo like no one else. He still wants to hang out with Bo and his friends, especially when Bo’s trying to get some space. They argue over what’s on TV. They have moments of frustration. Sometimes Bo isn’t as patient or gentle as you might expect him to be with a sibling who has a disability and truthfully, I love that.

I love it because it means Bennett isn’t being treated like he’s made of glass. He’s just Bo’s little brother.

Yes, there are people who adore Bennett, who speak to him in softer tones or heap on extra praise and I appreciate that love more than I can say. But there’s something special about the people, like Bo, who speak to him as they would any other nine-year-old boy.

The Things You Might Not See

What’s easy to miss is the quiet, steady, and deeply protective way Bo loves his brother.

Bo is the kind of person who notices everything. If someone treats Bennett unfairly, even in a small, subtle way, Bo will pick up on it instantly. Maybe it’s a teacher who talks over Bennett instead of to him, or a stranger who underestimates him. Bo doesn’t always step in with a big, dramatic defense but you can see it in his eyes. He’ll store that moment away, and he won’t forget it.

He’s also quick to speak up when it matters. If you avoid talking about Bennett’s disability or skirt around the truth, Bo will call you out, gently, but directly. He doesn’t shy away from naming Bennett’s diagnoses or explaining what they mean, and he expects others to treat Bennett with the same level of honesty and respect.

Bo is a quiet champion for presuming competence. He knows Bennett understands more than people might assume, and he will remind us that he is. He has no patience for people who underestimate his brother, but he has endless patience for those who genuinely want to know and connect with him.

Then there are the small, almost invisible ways he shows his care. He’ll get Bennett snacks or other items he is looking for without being asked. He’ll pause his own plans to make sure Bennett’s needs are met. He misses him when they’re apart, even if he doesn’t always say so. And when they’re together again, there’s this unspoken ease between them, like they’re slipping right back into their natural rhythm.

Bo also thinks about the future, more than I wish a child his age had to. He wonders what life will look like for Bennett when he’s grown, who will care for him, and how he can help. We’ve told him over and over that he’s under no obligation to take on that role. But still, I see it in the way he pays attention, the way he learns, the way he slowly takes on more, not because he has to, but because he wants to.

This part of their bond isn’t always visible to others. It’s not the stuff you catch in Instagram photos or hear about in casual conversations. But for me, it’s the part that matters most, the everyday, quiet acts of loyalty and love that tell me Bo will always, in his own way, be watching out for his brother.

It’s Messy but it’s Ours.

Every sibling relationship is unique. In our house, the one between Bo and Bennett is this perfectly imperfect blend of normal and extraordinary. It’s loud arguments over nothing, eye rolls at each other’s quirks, deep belly laughs, quiet acts of love, and connection that I know will carry into their future.

From the outside, you might see differences first. But when I look at them, I see two boys who are just brothers. And that, in all its messy, complicated, beautiful reality, is something I’ll never stop being grateful for.