Sibling Rivalry With a 12-Year Difference

Think your children won't argue when the age difference exceeds 10 years? Read Lions & Elephants and tell me if you've had the same experience.

Little Sister Saves Big Brother From Scary Robber

As the oldest sibling in a family of three children, I am well aware of the "perceived" hierarchy that exists in families who have more than one child. My younger sister and I frequently picked on our youngest sister by telling her she was adopted (she wasn't) and that aliens, disguised as specks of dust, were following her in the basement ready to kidnap her and take her away to a distant planet.

She claimed she didn't believe us, but we knew she was lying – I mean, we were so obviously superior to her. And like most kids, we always made sure our parents weren't around to hear us taunting her.

Which leads me to...

My daughter-in-law, Michelle, and I were talking earlier today about our shared fear – basements – when she remembered the time her big brother, Mario, woke her from a sound sleep to investigate their scary basement.

Mario was in junior high at the time, three years older than his tiny (even now, she barely hits five feet tall) sister, when he sent her downstairs with a bat and a knife to investigate sounds he heard in the basement (remember – she's afraid of them).

He thought maybe a robber had broken in and he had a plan, so it seems, to save the entire family from the dangerous robber by sending his LITTLE sister downstairs with a bat and a knife.

Michelle's job was to bang on a pole with the bat every ten seconds and to swing the knife around so she could slash the robber in case he crossed her path, which was probably smart of Mario, because at her height, she probably would have cut him in the groin.

If ten seconds passed and Mario didn't hear any more banging, he would know a robber truly was roaming the basement, because when the banging stopped, Mario would know that his little sister was dead – killed by the robber.

Mario's job? To call the cops when the banging stopped.

I can't explain to you why this story cracks me up so much – maybe you have to know these two people to understand the hilarity of the situation, but I really would have loved to have seen this scenario played out in person, so I could have watched mini-Michelle slash and bang and slash and bang and slash and bang (one-two-three…ten – bang) while Mario stood upstairs – phone in hand (probably counting in his head) – ready to call the cops when the banging stopped.

It never occurred to Michelle at the time that maybe her parents were better equipped to deal with potential robbers or sounds emanating from the basement – her big football-playing brother needed her help and she was going to face her fears and protect her family by wielding a knife and banging on a pole.

OK, I need to stop laughing right now and take a breath. But what I really want to do is to send a bat and a knife to Mario so he can save it for his son in case he and his wife ever have a daughter. That way his son's little sister can learn how to protect her family.

Blurry photo of Mario and Michelle was "borrowed" from their sister, Vicki (thanks, Vicki).

It's Somebody Else

Oh, those grandkids of mine.

Here's another blog about the antics of Audrey and Nolan:

Earlier today Audrey ran into my room huffing and puffing, slammed the door, and locked it (I was sitting on my bed writing an article). Within seconds, Nolan came knocking at the door, but Audrey held her position, hand on the knob, and refused to unlock the door or let him in.

"Audrey, unlock the door, please," I politely requested.

"No!" she panted, "He's trying to hit me with something."

Audrey is five and a half. Nolan just turned three. He has just recently learned that he now has power to cause fear in his sister and he enjoys exerting his newly-found power.

So I called through the door, "Nolan…" He kept knocking. "Nolan, you're not going to hit her with anything, are you?"

He continued knocking.

"Noooooollllllaaaaaaannnnnn…"

And he said, as he tried (unsuccessfully) to disguise his voice, "It's somebody else."

Silly boy!

Later, we found Nolan wrapped around the leg of the table sound asleep. We have a futon, a couch, a love seat, a sofa bed, several children's cots, a king sized bed, a full sized bed, and a set of bunk beds, but despite all of those choices, Nolan chose the floor under the table.