Being the youngest of nine children, I got used to noise at an early age. It was nothing to hear 5 people talking at once in a single conversation, little feet pattering across the floor, or the stomps of that one person who set their feet down deliberately with every step; but since I am the youngest, as I got older, the noise diminished as my siblings grew up, moved away and the childish laughter was exchanged for quiet conversations and even more often, silent dreamy looks being directed out the window.
I got used to silence; but every few months or so, that all changes. Little feet once again patter on the floor, tiny smudged hands grab my pant leg or my hand and drag me along to show me 'treasures', cheerios are once again spilled on the floor and the animals make themselves scarce. (It seems they too are used to silence.) Laughter and childish squeals of glee are as common floating in the air as the particles of dust that the sunlight reveals. Our rambling house at the base of the mountain becomes a different place when the littles come to visit.
It isn't an unwelcome change--in fact, quite the opposite. It is possible for a house to be too quiet, and at times it needs these precious little people to come in and liven the place up with their laughter, remind the occupants that it's okay for a house to look lived in & loved, and remind those who have forgotten of the joys and challenges that comes with being a parent, or an older sibling, for that matter. No, I wouldn't call the joyful shouts, pattering feet, and childish songs unwelcome noise at all.