Then he stopped.
Keaton placed the baby in the crib and began loosening the straps.
“Elio,” I said. “Come see your sister in her room.”
He did not move.
His fingers tightened around the doorframe. The color drained from his face.
“That’s not her.”
Keaton glanced over his shoulder.
“What?”
Elio took one step backward.
“That’s not my sister.”
I almost smiled because I thought he was making a strange joke.
“Of course she is.”
“No.”
His voice was barely audible.
“You brought home the wrong baby.”
Keaton laughed, but the sound was impatient.
“Buddy, babies look different after they leave the hospital.”
Elio shook his head.
“I want to go to my room.”
He ran before either of us could stop him.
Keaton and I exchanged a look.
“He’s jealous,” Keaton said.
Elio had been our only child for five years. Every parenting article I had read warned that older children could behave strangely after a new baby arrived.
