My seven-year-old son had begged for a sibling for years, so when his baby sister Brenda was born, I thought his sudden obsession with sleeping under her crib was sweet. Then one night, I heard him whisper something through the baby monitor that made me stop in the hallway.

Diane had been staying with us since Brenda came home. At first, I was grateful. She cooked, cleaned, folded laundry, and kept telling me to rest.

But when she saw Ben sleeping beneath the crib, she frowned.

“You shouldn’t encourage this.”

“I’m not encouraging anything.”

“I do.”

“Clearly not firmly enough.”

I rolled my eyes.

“He’s excited.”

Diane looked toward the crib.