Posted by Naomi de la Torre on Oct.12, 2009

©iStockphoto.com - kate_sept2004

When I was six and my sister Aliza was three, I convinced her to eat cat food to impress our babysitter. According to my recollection, I told her it was graham crackers and she was quite delighted. Somehow, I don’t recall whether this actually impressed our babysitter or not, nor do I remember if I received any punishment for this wayward act.

The cat chow/graham cracker incident was not the only mean thing I did to my sister while we were growing up. If you ask her, she will probably tell you about the time I jumped atop the toilet when I knew she had to pee and laughed at her while she cried and peed in her new pink stirrup pants that she had just received for Christmas. She might also tell you about the time that I decided to send her out onto a small pond that had formed in our backyard atop a green plastic sled that ended up not being able to float. Or she might tell you about the time my cousin Hillary and I decided that we were going to live in a loft together when we grew up and write encyclopedias and we wouldn’t let her in on our future encyclopedia-loft-roommate plan.

I tormented my little sister. I will admit that. But I don’t remember feeling hateful or mean when I was doing these things. I just remember thinking she was so little and gullible, and that it was so easy and fun to be able to manipulate her. And really, she was actually lucky not to get in on the nerdy encyclopedia writer plan. She turned out to be really hip and cool, a real fashionista trendsetter. Meanwhile I buy my clothes at Target, and I always have to check with her before I do, so she can inform me which shape of sunglasses are currently in style or whether its skinny jeans or bootleg cut that I’m supposed to be wearing.

My son Nino is five and his little brother Diego is two. Nino is a wonderful, sweet brother, much kinder than I was I’m sure. But occasionally I see him doing things that remind me of that impulse to tease the younger sibling, just because you can. Most of the time, Diego loves it when Nino runs around the house chasing him and threatening to eat him or tickle him or roll him up in a blanket like a burrito. Diego shrieks with happy laughter as they race through the house for the 85th time in under three minutes. But other times, Diego’s shrieks become tinged with fear or distress and suddenly he is all-out bawling and Nino just doesn’t know when to stop.

When I ask him, “Nino, why don’t you stop when Diego starts crying?” he says he doesn’t know. I guess that’s a good enough answer. Why did I stand on the toilet while my sister peed on herself? I don’t know.

What is the human impulse to cause another person distress or pain really about? Is it about exerting power? Domination? Is it the other side of love?

When I think back to those times when I was tormenting my sister, I would have to say that there is a natural human desire to tease someone who is an easy target. It’s a simple way to get a free (albeit false) ego boost. You have to learn that this is wrong. In our case, eventually my sister got smart and began to retaliate in her own ways. She realized that my parents wouldn’t punish her if she hit or bit me, and so I got a few good chunks chewed out of my arm before I learned that teasing my sister wasn’t such a great idea after all. I learned my lesson and got what I deserved. And now I am proud to say I never stand on the toilet when a good friend or family member is desperate. Nor do I secretly sneak cat chow into my casseroles so I can laugh at unsuspecting guests.

The funny thing is, as much as Nino teases Diego, there is no one Diego loves more than his brother. The second he wakes up in the morning, “Nino? Nino?” he cries, his eyes scanning the room in every direction. And when I pick Diego up from nursery school he shrieks a happy “Mami!” but then immediately, his happy face turns to concern. “Nino? Nino?” he says, afraid I might have accidentally left him at Wal-Mart. And sometimes, when Diego is strapped in his car seat, he likes to talk to himself. We hear him back there saying all our names over and over like a mantra. “Mami, Papi, Nino, Nana, Nino, Nino, Mami, Mami, Nino, Papi, Nana…”

It’s love. It’s always love.

When we love someone deeply, we feel relaxed enough to show our shadow side. We all do it. Who is the person who gets to see you at your worst? It’s always the ones you love the most.

Love is the secret. It animates us and gives us life. And love gives us the reigns to experiment with our dark side. I love my sister more than anything. The thought of anything bad ever happening to her makes my heart skip a beat. When I was a teenager, I would lay awake at night trembling at the thought that my sister might die and leave me alone in this world without her. I told her all my secrets and she told me hers. We shared experiences, good and bad, that made us feel like two halves of a single whole. Even now, when she calls me in the middle of any kind of drama, her voice shaking with hurt and pain, I can feel her emotions more strongly than I can sometimes feel my own.

I look up to my sister. I adore my sister. I idolize my sister. I am jealous of my sister. I love my sister and I would no doubt tackle anyone who tried to hurt her in any way. But, for some reason, if it’s me doing the bad stuff, somehow it’s okay.

Is this really okay? Of course not. But it’s true, nonetheless. It’s sibling rivalry at its best. And if there was ever an opportunity for me to out-shine her, or out-cook her, or out-fashion her, or to exclude her from an encyclopedia writing project, would I do it? I would love to lie and say, absolutely not! But the truth is, I don’t know.

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Posted under GDM Kids, Tweens, Teens.