"Why doesn't your son love me?"

My immediate reaction to the question that was asked by my second child was to get up off the couch, go outside and punch her brother in the face.

But I couldn't do that.

I love him too much to beat him down like that. However, when I heard the sadness in her voice my motherly instinct was to "take care of the problem". Then I had to think about the source of the problem: my first child.

I didn't bother asking my daughter what her brother did because it didn't really matter. All that mattered was that her feelings were hurt. He's always saying things to hurt her feelings. He calls her names and acts as though she has the plague whenever she's around him and his friends. He drives me crazy ... mainly because he flips the script when they are alone. He offers to help her with her homework, he gives her tips on how to handle Mom, he always wants to watch movies with her and when he gets a new video game he invites her in his room to watch him play it. (Watching someone play a video game has got to be the most boring thing on the planet but she always jumps at the chance.)

On the other hand, my daughter never flips the script. She's the same all the time. She loves her brother and she never hides that fact. If she's getting something from the store she always gets something for him. She has gotten up on Saturday mornings and fixed French toast and sausage for that scoundrel! She's a giver all the time.

See why I wanted to punch him in the face?

I know this stuff is normal. Because of my, um ... interesting family background I have quite a few brothers. But only four of them grew up in the house with me and we had our share of sibling rivalries:

Brother #2 - My big brother is four years older than me. He was was seven and I was three when my mother married his father. He hated me from day 1. He would push me down and beat me up, throw shoes at me and yell at me to get off Daddy's lap and say, "He's not your father!" What a brat he was. He was an angry kid and I was terrified of him. That is until we both entered high school. Then he became my protector. He let all his friends know that I was off-limits and if they even thought about stepping to me they would not live to talk about it. He was serious. I also remember in elementary school he beat the crap outta some kid for accidentally knocking me down on the playground resulting in my arm being broken in three places. Well, that incident was more about my brother wanting to fight than about him loving me. I told you he was angry.

When we entered adulthood he always referred to me as his "Big, Little Sister" because he was always screwing things up and calling me to help him out. Which I never minded doing. He's my big brother. He joined the military in the late eighties and at the time he was involved with this one triflin girl and they had a son. Well, this chick ended up in a correctional facility and he called me from wherever he was and asked me to help the grandmother with the baby until the mama got out of the big house. I did it. Those were some crazy days ... I'm happy to say that my big brother is no longer screwing up and is handling his business. But if he ever needs me I'll be there for him and I know he would do the same for me.

Brother #3 - This is my younger brother by six years. We're cool now but there was a time when we were younger when we weren't. One night my mother had gone out and left me in charge. I think I was about 15 or 16 years old. I was drunk with power and was bossing the three younger kids around a little too much ... Brother #3 had had enough of my mess and got in my face. I pushed his little behind down on the couch and told him to shut up. He turned beet red, jumped off the couch and charged me! He would not stop swinging. Finally, I had to bring him outside on the porch and hold both his arms behind his back so he would stop hitting me. That was how my mom found us when she got home. She got out of the car and my brother yells, "Mom, Chele hit me!" My mother walked up the stairs and without saying a word slapped the taste right out of MY mouth. I let go of my brother and he went into the house. WTH?

Brother #3 and I probably have the best relationship of all the siblings. He lives outside of Detroit and is planning his second wedding. It's been a couple of years since he's been home but everytime we speak we just pick up where we left off. I miss him. His son is an exact replica of my son ... it's weird because his son is half white and my son is half Puerto Rican.

I never really had any trouble with Brother #1 (who is eight years older than me) or Brother #4 (who is 12 years younger than me). We get along but we never really spent any significant time in the same house together. My youngest brother was 5 when I graduated high school so it's really hard for me to even see him as an adult ... but he is a 30-year old adult. Where does the time go?

Anyway, all my childhood memories with my brothers weren't good ones but I believe we always loved each other no matter what. I'm hoping that when my daughter becomes an adult she will feel the same way about her older brother. He certainly is making it difficult though.