“Okay.”

“Go play with Sheila.”

“She’s boring. She doesn’t do anything but drool and laugh.”

His dad smiled, then turned back to his work. PJ walked out.

His mom was still on the phone. But she was talking to someone else. “Now? They’re closing the schools now?”

“Can I come? Mommy? Can I come with you? Please?”

His mom put up her finger. “Yes, I’ll pick them up.”

PJ was excited—his sisters were coming home now. He turned to Sheila, who was sitting—drooling—in her high chair. He tickled her and made her laugh.

“PP!” she said.

“PJay.”

Her head bounced up and down. “PP! PP!”

She was never going to say his name right.

He glanced at his mom. She wasn’t paying attention. He sneaked a handful of cookies and put them in his pocket. He would teach Sheila to say his name right or he was going to change it.

“Mommy, I’m changing my name,” he said. “I want to be called John. Sheila, say John!”

“PP!”

He sighed.

His mother finally got off the phone. “I need to go get your sisters.”

“I wanna come.”

“Honey, the roads are a mess, and this storm is really coming in fast. Your dad is working, and I need you to be a big brother and play with Sheila upstairs in the playroom. You can get your dad if there are any problems.”

He frowned. “Mommmmmy.”

“Please PJ?”

“Call me John.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s part of my name. Peter John. Sheila calls me PP. That’s like when you pee and I don’t like it.”

“All right, John,” his mother said, and laughed. She picked Sheila up and carried her upstairs. The playroom was babyproof. All the small toys were way up on the shelves. His mom put Sheila in her playpen. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes, and then we’ll all play. If you have any problem, just get your dad. You’re a good big brother, PJ.”

“John.”

She smiled and kissed him on the head. “Love you, John.” She kissed Sheila. “Love you. Be good for your brother.” Then she left.

Sheila gurgled in her playpen and PJ moped. He didn’t really mind watching his baby sister—his mom trusted him. She always told him that he was an “old soul,” whatever that meant. But Dad said it was because he was responsible and he knew that he couldn’t give Sheila Legos and that he couldn’t carry her down the stairs and that he couldn’t leave her alone even for one minute to go pee because Sheila might climb out of her playpen and fall down the stairs and hurt herself.

He talked to her about what they would do when their big sisters came home, then he read her a book with simple words that even he knew.

“Bear!” she pointed to the Brown Bear.

“Bear, that’s right!” She said a new word, and PJ couldn’t wait to tell his mom that he heard it first.

“Cat?” He pointed. “Say cat.”