Jax Tyler Moss is six years old and just sapient enough a man to know he hates having a new brother.

"Babies are so loud," he says for the seventh time on the car ride home.

Prince is strapped into something soft on all sides, and his vision is blurry. It's a car seat, he knows; Clover has to sit in one when they take the van. Prince is tired and sleeps a lot, but the sound of Jax's high-pitched voice wakes him.

Joanna Moss turns in her seat and smiles back at them both. "Jax, every baby is like this when they're young. You, too."

"Nuh-uh," Jax insists.

His stubby fingers poke Prince's cheek, and Prince finds the sensation funny.

"Ew. He's squishy."

"Aren't you happy to have a baby brother?" comes the deep voice of Prince's father, facing the road as he drives.

"No, I hate it," Jax insists. "He's squishy and dumb."

It's lunchtime, and while the Moss family drives home from the hospital with their new baby, Clover and her parents sit at their round kitchen table eating grilled cheese made with wonder bread. Jax's comment is hilarious, and Clover can't help the giggle that bubbles up in her throat. Her mama and daddy exchange glances, but she takes a bite of her sandwich and chews. Listening to Jax is fun.

In the car, Prince gurgles, still too young to laugh.

"Now, Jax," begins Prince's father in a stern tone, "you're a big brother now. It's your job to look after Prince. Do you know what that means?"

Prince's eyes aren't strong enough to see Jax shake his head, but it must be what he does, because their father continues.

"That's okay little guy, mom and I will help you. It means that you need to keep Prince safe. You need to be kind to him, help him if he asks for help, teach him right from wrong when mom and I aren't around. You'll have to share your toys with him, too."

Jax's eyes go as wide and as round as a full moon. "Even the robots that change into cars?"

"Even the robots that change into cars."

Prince is used to playing with dollies and aprons, plastic food and coloring books, dresses and Clover's mama's heels. Clover's mama hasn't given her any toy trucks or airplanes or green army men, but the boys in her daycare always have a blast with them. The one time she tried to play with a light-up fire truck, another boy screamed and cried until their sitter came over.

Firetrucks are for boys, she had said, and didn't Clover want to play with the costume jewelry anyway?

Robots that change into cars sound awesome.

"What if Prince is mean to me?" Jax readies his next line of defense.

"Sometimes, when he's old enough, he might be. But you know what, little guy? You be the bigger man, and Prince will grow up learning from your example. You two will be just fine. Thick as thieves, I promise you."

Prince feels Jax's finger on his cheek again, this time more gentle, almost cautious.

"If it's my job to protect Prince," Jax begins, slow, "does that make me a knight?"

Joanna looks back again, reaches between the seats to place her hand on her oldest son's knee. "Absolutely, sweetheart. You're his knight in shining armor."

Jax lights up, content to flip through the cardboard picture book he's had on his lap for the ride.

Prince has never had a brother, because Clover has no siblings. It sounds fun, and nice, to have someone to protect him. His eyelids grow heavy once more, and as he drifts off to sleep, Clover takes another bite of her sandwich.