He was christened The Cereal King eight years ago. He was ten. My grandfather noticed that he took his boxes of cereal with him everywhere that boy went. He was just a boy then. Age ten. Grandfather said ?gCharley,?h my father looked up from his own breakfast, ?gCharles, you named this boy by the wrong name.?h My father stopped chewing. ?gHow so??h He asked mildly. He shouldn?ft be called Martin. He should be called The Cereal King. And so began his reign. Eight years ago, The Cereal King and I were not friends. I?fm not sure if we are today. I was seven and he was nine and a half. Back then, two and a half years might as well have been twenty. The funny thing is, just five months ago, when he had not yet started the fifth grade and I had anticipated no longer being a first grader, we were the best of friends. We created universes with our imaginations. Nina, the oldest, and Marion, the youngest, didn?ft play with us often. It was always Martin and I. He was an avid Lego collector. We had bins and buckets full of plastic spaceship mechanisms intertwined with pieces of western saloons. My favorite was the underwater series. We took time in making sure each piece was tightly in place, our blonde heads sitting quietly for hours, just building. Once in a while the younger one of us would say ?gLook, is this good??h and the Cereal King would patiently respond. ?gYes, Annika. Try adding this piece on top of your underwater research pod.?h And I would agree, of course. He always had an ability to make my underwater research pods look just that much cooler. In Switzerland, we celebrate ?gThree King?fs Day?h by crowning a king or queen. The king or queen is selected by lottery. Each person chooses a piece from Three King?fs Bread and if one finds a small plastic figurine of a king or queen inside the bread, he or she is crowned. In my house, this means that the king or queen can choose what he or she wants for dinner. Every year I would hope that I would find the little figurine inside my slice of bread, that I would get to be queen for a day. I still do, but I don?ft verbalize it as much anymore. I remember waking up early on Three Kings Day. It was a while ago. The King and I were not on speaking terms. I must have been six or seven. Maybe younger. I was very excited because I knew that this year, the crown was not only gold, but it also had little diamonds in it. They weren?ft real, but I did not know that then. I pictured myself wearing that gold crown, the diamonds matching my light blonde hair. Once we were all seated around the breakfast table, my mother brought in the Three King?fs Bread. Marion, who was only one or two years old at the time, got to choose first. I was next. I selected carefully, trying to figure out if a figurine would make the piece bigger or smaller. I chose a roll that was medium in size. Martin was next. Nina and my parents followed him. Once we all had a piece, Mom said we could start looking. I dug my way carefully into the bread, peeled away the crust and dissecting the insides. There was no figurine. I looked up at my brother and watched him as he discovered the plastic figurine inside his roll. He held up the little King and smiled. The crown with the little diamonds matched his hair, too. I remember being angry at him for winning what I wanted and I told him so later. The King looked at me for a quiet while, adjusted his crown and said ?gBecause I am King, I banish you to your room.?h I followed him to my room and sat on my bed until dinner. It didn?ft occur to me that that I could leave my room. Now I am fifteen and he is eighteen. He is still the Cereal King, but has gone on to conquer many more regions. My brother juggles a million different things with skill and agility. I sometimes wonder how he does it. My mother says it?fs because he works at something until he is the best and then he makes sure that it stays that way. Every morning, Martin and I drive to school. Neither of us talk. I wonder if he thinks about things to say, like I do. I never get the courage to ask him about college or soccer because I?fve been the annoying little sister for too long now. I don?ft care as much about becoming friends with Martin as a used to. I don?ft even care as much about being as good as him. I do care about him though. The Cereal King will leave his kingdom soon. And as he gets older, as I get older, I get more and more excited about seeing who we will be in ten years. I always thought I would always just be ?gMartin?fs sister?h but lately, as he scores more and more goals and achieves more and more things, I find myself proud of it. I hope he feels the same way about the King?fs little sister.