By the time you’re done reading this, you might very well conclude that I am a cold-hearted monster. You will undoubtedly make a note to yourself to avoid me at all costs. My two little brothers will only support you in that decision, and quite frankly, I wouldn’t blame you either.

My first little brother, Isaac, isn’t so little anymore. He’s two years younger than me, which causes some people to think he’s either older or my twin (two assumptions I’m not OK with). Growing up, we were partners in crime, though I could almost always get away with attributing the “crime” part to him. (Don’t tell him I said that. We do go to the same school). He was also very easy to provoke. Anger management probably wouldn’t have been a bad idea, but I made sure, as his older sister, to do my part. I’m actually quite appalled at my younger self when I think of all the ways I triggered him just to be entertained by his dramatic reaction.

I think the reason why my family and I enjoy watching "Malcolm in the Middle" so much is because it’s about a family who is slightly crazier than we are — and that’s hard to pull off. I always liked to think I was the sane, intelligent Malcom of the family, but if I’m honest with myself, I’m really Reese; he was the crazy one whose favorite hobby was torturing his little brothers.

There are two instances of tormenting Isaac when we were kids (though I think I was old enough to know better) that still stand out clearly in my mind to this day. In the first one, I was showing off magic tricks one summer afternoon in the yard. I was terrible, but he was still at the gullible stage where even a marble disappearing up a sleeve caused his eyes to pop and his jaw to drop. One marble after another went missing in front of his eyes. Realizing he actually believed in my tricks made me feel powerful in a way I’d never felt before. It was too tempting. Like Frodo and his all-powerful but dangerous ring, I couldn’t help but try on this new power.

I told him that for my next trick I was going to make him disappear! (This is where I may or may not have mentioned that I did not intend on bringing him back.) I really can’t remember if I said that, or if that’s what he inferred because I hadn’t brought the marbles back yet either. Nonetheless, what I do remember is his reaction. He began crying — and then desperately sobbing when I pretended to think about it — begging me not to make him disappear. That’s when my conscience finally woke up, and I began to feel terrible. I had to take out the marbles from my sleeve and prove to him that I really had no super powers. Finally, his tears subsided into occasional sniffles and I vowed to myself I’d never do magic tricks again.

The next instance is one that still makes me laugh out loud whenever I think about it — the last one just makes me feel like a horrible person. We were outside playing when a strange dog came up behind us. We have never had a dog in the family before, and besides that, I have always had traumatizing experiences with dogs. (This all goes to justify what I did next.) Instinctively, I screamed and ran inside, totally forgetting I had a little brother in the same situation, close behind me. My mind was solely focused on not dying.

I got in the house and slammed the door, my small chest heaving in dramatic and panicked breaths. Then I looked out the window and saw my little brother banging on the door, screaming like a little girl! His scream sounded more like a girl than mine did, and I couldn’t help but laugh as I stood there, looking down at him. I probably looked like a monster, laughing like a maniac in the safety of our house while my little brother cried for help in the lion’s den. Luckily, the dog was not a lion. He was actually quite tame and wandered away eventually, shaking his head at the small paranoid humans behind him. I doubt, however, that I would find this memory so amusing if the dog had been anything but nice.

Don’t worry, there are plenty of times Isaac got his revenge. I cannot even count the times he had me screaming as he chased me around the yard with a rake or the house with a hammer. One time, he actually threw a small rock at my head. (He got in trouble for that one.) It wasn’t all torture, though. There were plenty of games too. Hide and seek in our Narnia-like forest, mud pies, Lego empires, spies and pirates. I can’t even imagine what children do without siblings. I suppose I would have read a lot more books, to a terrifyingly impressive degree, because even with brothers, I have read a ton.

I’m not sure why I’m telling you all this, because I do want to keep my friends, if at all possible. But I’m a big fan of honesty, even if it hurts.

My other little brother, Benjamin, is six years younger than me, and so I really have no excuse for my actions. He was quite the surprise child. When my mother told us at the dinner table that she was having another baby, we all laughed, convinced she was joking. But she wasn’t.

I was so excited at the possibility of having a little sister. Isaac was fun and all, but he wouldn’t let me do his hair or anything like that. I had names picked out and everything. I think my top name was Natalie Rose. So you can imagine my disappointment when we found out my mother was having a boy! Another brother?! Wasn’t one enough!?

Of course, when he arrived, we became best friends at first sight. People often mistook me for his mother because we were always together (which my younger-self found hilarious, disconcerting and a little terrifying). As he grew old enough to walk and run, we would have secret dancing parties in my parents’ room, where we jumped and danced on the bed to 80s rock music. It was awesome. I have no idea where Isaac was in all of this. (He obviously wasn’t cool enough to be invited.)

Once I trained him in all my eccentric ways, he became my minion. I finally found someone who would let me do his hair (though it took lots of persuading that he would look like Wolverine by the time I was done with him).

I also got it into my head somehow, that I was responsible for toughening him up for the real world. Isaac wasn’t really a physical activity kind of guy, so I stepped in the tomboy shoes with joy. I would chase Benjamin around the house, tackle him to the ground and wrestled him until he tapped the carpet in surrender. Then, of course, I would sit on him until he got angry enough to do something about it. (Keep in mind, this was all training. It was for his own good.)

It was not long until he was a fully trained ninja. In fact, I had successfully created a monster. I felt like the mad scientist, Frankenstein, as I watched him far surpass my own skills. He became strangely good at break-dancing (strange, because I never taught him), climbing walls and anything to do with parkour.

When he got old enough, around 8 or 9, we all got into sword fighting together. Isaac started making huge swords with duck-tape, cardboard and sometimes PVC Pipe. We would have intense Samurai/Star Wars sword fights in our yard. It was one of my favorite parts about coming home for break. As someone who’s been an athlete for most of my life, it’s hard to suppress my competitive spirit (even when my opponent is a small child). Let’s just say, as of now, I’m still the reigning champ (though both my brothers put up a good fight).

These are just a few of the activities I had the pleasure of participating in with my brothers, and I’m not so sure that would have been the case if they had been sisters instead. I’m sure I would have had loads of fun either way, but I wouldn’t trade the fun I’ve had for the world. It’s not every day you get a little brother who will let you duck-tape him to the wall, give him crazy Wolverine hair and wrestle him to the ground until he cries what you tell him to say:

“Okay, Abbie! You’re the best sister in the world!”

Why, thank you, little man. I couldn’t have said it better myself.