"I wanna big brother."
I looked up from vanishing a coin and saw my six-year-old son come into the kitchen. He looked frustrated.
"Really?" I asked, putting the handkerchief down. "Why?"
Harry scowled. "Terry's big brother is a judo person and Andy's is a tenth grader so nobody picks on them. I wanna big brother."
"I see," I said thoughtfully.
"Can I?" he asked hopefully.
I shook my head. "I'm sorry, Harry. You don't have a big brother that I know of." I paused. "Is a Dad okay?"
He brightened. "Yeah," he said, and ran to me for a hug.
