With a new baby in the house, it goes without saying that I don't get much sleep. The smallest sound - any noise at all - will wake me. Where I used to sleep like the dead, now what I do barely counts as sleeping. More like waiting. So, when I hear my daughter's raspy whisper right next to my ear, I jolt awake with a racing heart.

"Mommy…" she says, and when I open my eyes, she's standing right there. Gracie Clare is only wearing a pair of underwear and a tank top - matching, at least - but since her little brother came home, none of us have bothered getting anything close to fancy. I don't think I've put on a bra for at least a week. Luckily, it's the middle of summer, or else I'm sure her school outfits would be taking a hit. "Mommy."

I inhale sharply, her blue eyes blinking right into mine, those eyelashes a mile long. "Baby, what is it," I say groggily. "Where's your dad?"

"In the kitchen," she answers. "But mommy, I have a very important question."

I blink hard, still trying to orient myself with the world and the five-year-old standing in front of me. "Yeah," I say.

"Where did Max live before us?" she asks.

"Huh?" I say, half asleep.

"Mommy," she says insistently, jostling my shoulder. "Where did Maxie come from?"

Then, I realize what she's asking. Throughout my entire pregnancy, she hadn't asked the million dollar question that Jesse and I both thought she would. We waited the entire nine months for her to wonder about it, though we had no idea how to answer. I guess since the baby's been born, her curiosity hasn't been on my mind as much.

"Babe…I…" I say, then hear the familiar fussy cry on the baby monitor. "We'll have to talk later, okay?"

"But Momma…" she says, trailing after me as I get up and make my way to the nursery. "I wanna know now."

"Now isn't the best time," I say, lifting Max out of his crib. He quiets down as soon as he's in my arms, even more so when I sit in the rocking chair to feed him. "Go talk to your daddy. I'm sorry, GC. My mind is really messy at the moment."

She stomps one foot and lets out a huffy sigh, then pounds her way out of the room and down the stairs. I let out a long breath and let my head rest against the back of the chair, rocking slowly as Max nurses. A few other moms at Gracie's school warned me that she might go through a difficult transition period after the baby was born, but I hadn't listened. She's always been such an easy kid, so I didn't expect anything to change. I wouldn't say that she's become a different person over the course of a week, but she's definitely more sensitive and seeking attention in ways she never has before. I can't blame her; she's only five, but it does get exhausting.

I smile at the little brunette in my arms, though, and feel calmer as I look at him. He reminds me a lot of his sister when she was this tiny, but I'm definitely not as scared this time around. Everything feels much more stable. "You'll get used to things around here, little guy," I say, stroking the shell of his ear with my fingertip. "Just wait and see."

Later that night, the four of us are at the dining room table eating dinner that Jesse prepared. I have the baby in a sling on my chest as he sleeps, and Gracie is on her knees in the chair across from me, picking at her noodles with a plastic fork.

"Want me to take Max so you can eat?" Jesse asks.

"No, it's okay," I tell him. "Don't wanna wake him up."

"I do," Gracie says, then takes a big breath like she's about to either scream or yell or both.

"GC," Jesse says sternly, and she closes her mouth right away - pressing her lips together so hard they turn white. "No."

"He wakes me up all the time," she says. "So that means it's fair."

"He's a baby," Jesse says. "He doesn't know any better. Remember what we said before he was born? That he was gonna cry and sleep and be stinky a lot of the time?"

"He's not even fun."

"Not yet," Jesse says. "But he will be. Give it a few months, and you guys will be playing together all the time."

"Nuh-uh," she says. "He's not gonna touch any of my toys and he's never, ever coming in my room."

"That's not very nice," I say. "Gracie."

She crosses her arms and juts out her chin, glaring at me in a way I've never seen her do. Something about her expression reminds me of myself and I can't help but wonder if I ever looked at my mother like that. I probably did. I wish I could take it back.

"He's just a baby," I say.

"All he needs right now is for you to love him," Jesse says.

"Well, I don't," she says, still pouting. She takes a fistful of wet noodles from her plate, hops up from her chair, and before I can register what she's doing, she deposits them right onto Max's little head.

"Gracie!" I say, shocked.

The baby flinches awake as he notices the strange substance on his skin, and Gracie runs off as Jesse gets up and begins to pick noodles off of our crying baby's face. "Oh, buddy," he says, gathering them in his cupped palm. "We're not even Italian."

I stifle a laugh and look up at him. "Shut up," I say, and he gives me a kiss on the forehead before going to throw the noodles away. It only takes a bit of shushing and rocking to get Max back to sleep, but that isn't the problem. "Why is she acting like this?" I ask Jesse, desperately. "I didn't even know she was capable of something like that."

"I know," he says, rubbing his temples. "She's jealous. That's pretty obvious."

"Yeah."

"We should talk to her."

"Yeah," I say, then glance at our sleeping son. "Let me put him down real quick. I think it'd be best if it was just the three of us."

"Probably," Jesse says, then gently kisses Max's noodle-free head when I stand up. "Night, buddy. See you at some unholy time in the middle of the night."

After I get Max settled in his crib, I come back to the kitchen to find it all cleaned up and Jesse waiting to approach Gracie as a united front. "This is weird," I say. "Why am I nervous? It feels like we're about to go talk to a teenager."

"A three-nager," he says.

"Ha."

We get to her door to find it open a crack, but Jesse knocks anyway. "GC," he says. "It's us. We need to talk."

"I know already I'm in trouble," she says, voice muffled. When we go inside, I see it's because she's buried under her covers. I wonder how long she's been like that. If she's as similar to me as I've always thought, she's probably been in that hole for quite a while.

"We wanna talk about it," Jesse says, always so much better with words than me. "We wanna talk about what you're feeling and maybe why you're feeling like that. You know you can always talk to us, right?"

She pushes the covers back and unearths her face, flushed from the heat and lack of oxygen. "Nuh-uh," she says, glowering.

"What do you mean?" I say, pulling up a tiny chair from her table. "Yes, you can. Always."

"No, not always," she says. "Not when the dumb baby's in the way. He ruins everything. Before him, it was just me and you. Now, you forget about me all the time. And you don't even care."

"Gracie, that is not true," I say.

"We love you so much," Jesse says. "You'll always be our first."

"First the worst, second the best!" she insists, frowning. "Everybody knows that. You like him better than me."

"No, no," I say, then we get interrupted by the sound of a jet flying overhead - a common noise given that we live only a few miles west of the airport. Something strange comes across Gracie's face - a mixture of anticipation and fright, maybe - as she rockets up from her bed, through the hall, down the stairs, then out the front door. "Gracie!" I shout, shooting Jesse a confused look. "Where are you going?"

"Shit," Jesse says, trailing behind me as I follow in our daughter's footsteps. When I get downstairs, the front door is thrown open and she's standing on the porch, staring up at the sky with arms outstretched.

"What in the world are you doing?" I ask, snatching her up and out of the cold.

"You have to catch them!" she says, fighting my grip. But I get her inside and Jesse locks the door before she can get far.

"Catch who?" I ask, at a total loss.

She looks at me like I'm stupid. "The babies," she says. "Daddy said airplanes drop them. And when an airplane flies right over your house, it means you're gonna get one in your tummy. That's how Max got to us."

"Wait…" I say, eyebrows knitting together. "What?"

"You already know, mommy!" she says, losing patience. "You already did it with Max!"

"No," I say, then glance at Jesse who appears increasingly guilty. "Gracie…"

"Daddy said!"

"Sorry," Jesse mutters.

"Yeah," I murmur in return, then lift my little girl onto my hip. "We're gonna have to talk about this another time, babe. Right now, it's past your bedtime. And I don't think we need you any crankier than you are right now."

"I'm not cranky and I want to know the real true truth," she says matter-of-factly.

"The true truth can wait," I say firmly, in a tone that makes her listen. "It isn't going anywhere. But right now, it's time for little girls to get in bed. We'll all do better tomorrow."

"Seriously, Jess. You told her airplanes. When we hear those things fly over our house at least five times a day!"

"I panicked!" he says, splashing water on his face as we get ready for bed. "She came skipping in and asked me the question like she was asking what's for lunch. I didn't know what to say."

"So, you thought of the stupidest answer possible."

"Okay, I admit it wasn't my finest moment," he says.

I sigh and lean forward, elbows on my knees. "I'm sorry," I say. "I'm not mad. I'm just… I should've told her. But what do we tell her at five? I don't know. I brushed her off, though, and I shouldn't have. It's no wonder she feels swept under the rug. I totally did that to her earlier when Max started crying."

"You can't blame yourself, B," he says. "He's one week old. He's allowed to be high-maintenance."

"Well, she is, too," I say. "We flipped her entire life upside down. And she's only five. She's still little, too. I don't wanna start treating her like a tiny adult just because she's older. I hate it when parents do that."

"We won't," he says, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and kissing my temple. "I think we all just need time to get used to things."

"You're right," I say, sighing as I lie down. He gets in bed next to me and flicks off the light, letting out a long, slow sigh. "God, I'm tired," I mutter.

He turns onto his side and throws an arm across my stomach, still soft with what Max left behind. I'm self-conscious, but Jesse pays it no mind. That makes me feel a little better about how my shape has changed over the years. "Go to sleep," he says, pressing a kiss to my shoulder over my t-shirt. "I'll take first round of baby duty."

"I wish," I say, eyes closed and voice slurred. "But you don't have what he wants."

"True," he says, chuckling sleepily. "Well, I'll get up with you, then."

"If you insist."

"I do."

We both fall asleep before actually saying goodnight, but it only feels like a few minutes have passed when I'm woken again. Surprisingly, it's not by the sound of Max crying from down the hall, but an alarmingly hard poke to my arm. "Momma," Gracie whispers hoarsely.

"Huh?" I say, sitting halfway up, propped by an elbow. "You okay?"

"I wetted my bed," she whimpers. The only feature I can make out is her glassy eyes - she's been crying.

"What?" I say, still confused. I run one hand over my face and Jesse adjusts next to me, his arm still resting across my waist. "What happened?"

"I peed in my bed," she says, even softer than before.

"Hmm?" Jesse grunts, finally rousing.

"Gracie wet the bed," I say, trying not to let the tiredness show in my voice.

"I didn't mean to," she peeps.

"It's okay, chickpea," I sigh, sitting up fully. "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up."

"I can help her," Jesse says, glancing at the clock next to our bed. "You should sleep. Max still has an hour or so."

"I want Mommy," Gracie says, thumb in her mouth.

I make eye contact with my husband and shrug, smiling after saying, "She wants Mommy." I get out of bed and pick my daughter up, paying no mind to the fact that her pants are wet and slowly putting the side of my t-shirt in much of the same state. I've been a mother for a few years now; my own children's bodily functions stopped grossing me out a long time ago. "Now, what happened?" I ask, brushing some hair out of her eyes as we walk down the hall.

She rests her head on my shoulder in the way I've always loved. There's just something about the weight of it that'll always comfort me. "I woke up all wet," she says. "I didn't mean to. I'm sorry, momma."

"It's okay," I whisper, rubbing her back as I turn the bathroom light on. I sit on the closed toilet lid with her soft body on my lap and reach to turn the faucet on, waiting until it's warm to put the stopper in the tub. "We'll just give you a midnight bath and you can sleep with me and Dad tonight. Sound good? While your bedding is in the wash?"

She nods, thumb still in her mouth, head tucked under my chin. "Midnight bath," she says, voice a little jumbled.

"That's fun, right?" I say, testing the water with my free hand.

"I didn't mean to go pee in my bed," she says, lifting her arms as I help her out of her soiled pajamas. "I'm still a big girl, right?"

"Of course," I say, smoothing her hair and looking at her for a long moment. "Always my big girl." I nod towards the water. "I think it's ready for you, babe."

Gracie gets in, moving the suds around with her hands as I pour a cup of warm water over her head. She tips her chin up and closes her eyes, letting the water slick her hair down, and we just sit quietly together as she rinses off. A few moments later, I hear footsteps and turn to see Jesse leaning on the doorframe, cradling a fussy Max.

"Changed him," he says. "Now, he's asking for you."

"Oh," I say, extending my arms to take the baby. "Come here, little man."

I pull down the neck of my shirt and Max latches easily as Jesse gets comfortable on the floor next to the tub, resting his arm on the lip. He runs the ends of Gracie's wet hair through his fingers and lays his cheek on his upper arm, watching her as she pats the bubbles. "Babies don't really come from airplanes, right?" she says quietly.

"No, they don't," Jesse answers.

"But why did you say it?" she asks.

He sighs softly, still touching her hair. As I watch them, I stroke Max's cheek and wonder how Jesse will navigate through this touchy subject. I know whatever he says will be right; but I'd have no idea how to fill the silence. I'm glad she addressed him and not me. "Because…" he begins. "You asked a complicated question, but you're too little for the complicated answer." He taps the top of her head. "Sometimes, you're too smart for your own good."

"Like Mommy," she says, eyes sparkling in my direction.

"Uh-huh," Jesse says.

"But what if you made the answer not complicated?" Gracie continues. "You could maybe make it easy."

"Hmm…" he says, pressing his lips together. "Well, I can tell you this for sure. Babies don't come from airplanes, or storks, or anything crazy like that. Mommy made Max in her tummy. He grew inside her for nine whole months, then came out to be with us. All babies start out like that. And Max, just like all the other babies in the world, was made from love."

"Love?" Gracie says, eyebrows furrowed. "How?"

Jesse looks at her, his brown eyes on her blue. "He just was," he says.

She holds onto the answer for a beat, then nods surely, saying, "Okay." Then, she looks up. At first, I think she's looking at me, but she has her eyes on her brother instead. "Sorry for dropping noodles on your head at dinner," she murmurs, clearly ashamed.

"He says thank you," I tell her, smiling softly. "GC, I want you to know that it probably won't be easy while Max is really little. He needs a lot of mine and Daddy's attention because he can't do anything for himself yet."

"I know," she says gently.

"But I also want you to know that you're still allowed to need me," I say, reaching over to cup her chin. "You're little, too. If you're having a bad day, you can still act like a baby. That's totally okay. I'm never gonna be mad at you for that."

She smiles with her eyes and they crinkle at the corners. "Okay," she says.

Then, Jesse pipes up. "Can I act like a baby?" he asks.

I roll my eyes playfully and nudge him with my foot. I tell him, "No," and Gracie's laugh fills up the whole room.