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.

I rolled my eyes.

“He’s excited.”

Diane looked toward the crib.

That annoyed me.

“Ben loves her.”

“Children can love someone and still resent the attention they get.” She lowered her voice. “He needs to understand that the baby isn’t the center of the universe.”

“She’s two weeks old, Diane.”

I dismissed it.

But Ben slept under the crib again the next night.