Peeta's POV

I can't believe Katniss is pregnant again. I mean, now that I think about it, she has been acting weird again. Just like she did when she was carrying Willow. What I don't get is how she got our five year old to keep it a secret? Willow isn't exactly talented at keeping her little mouth shut.

Right now, Katniss is sleeping on the couch, her feet hanging off the side of it. She isn't nearly showing yet. She said she's not very far along. She told me later when she was pregnant with Willow. But she's already got that little glow that she had when she was pregnant before. Willow walks in and I place my finger over my lip to tell her to be quiet. She sees her mother sleeping and sighs.

"Why is Mommy so tired all the time?" she asks.

"Because making the baby is really hard work for her," I say.

"Why?" she asks.

"Because her body is working really hard to grow and protect the baby until he or she's ready to be born," I say. "And it makes her tired."

"Oh," she says. "Okay."

"Are you hungry?" I ask her.

"A little," she says. "But I can wait until Momma wakes up."

"How about a snack?" I ask her as I hold out a cheese bun. She smiles and takes it.

"My favorite!" she says happily.

"Mine too," Katniss says reaching past me to grab one for herself.

"Momma!" Willow says. "Your awake!"

"You act like its a big deal," Katniss says.

"Daddy says you need you sleep to make the baby," she says.

"I don't need to sleep all the time," she says. "Besides, I have to eat a lot too."

"Does that mean you're hungry?" I ask her.

"You know me so well," she says kissing my cheek and walking back into the living room and turning in the holographic TV.

"Do you want to help me make Momma some dinner?" I ask Willow. She nods happily. "What do you want to make?"

"I don't know," she says. "I don't know what she would want."

"Go get the can of lamb stew out of the pantry," I say. "It's you mother's favorite." She walks over to the big cupboard and reaches for a can of the stew. She brings it over to me and I open it and pour the stew into a pot. I put the pot on the stove and cover it.

"So what do I get to do?" Willow asks.

"I'm gonna teach you how to make those cheese buns you like so much," I say.

"Really?" she asks.

"Yep," I say. "Go get your stool Cupcake." She runs to the corner and grabs the little stool Johanna made her for her birthday. She pushes it up to the counter and stands beside me. She watches intently as I put the ingredients into the bowl and start mixing them together.

"Don't you have to measure the ingredients?" she asks.

"Not when you've been doing it as long as I have Pumpkin," I say.

"How long is that?" she asks.

"Started helping my Daddy when I was you age and started baking on my own when I was about ten," I tell her.

"That's a long time," Willow says.

"Not that long ago," I say.

"How long have you known Mommy?" she asks.

"That depends on what you mean by know," I say. "Because I've loved her since I was five but we didn't formally meet until we turned sixteen."

"Why?" she asks.

"I was too shy around her to even speak," I say. "I was too captivated by her beauty."

"What did she look like?" Willow asks.

"A lot like you Princess," I say.

"Really?" she asks.

"Yep," I say.

"Why did you talk to her when you were sixteen?" she asks.

"It's something that you wouldn't understand," I say.

"What do you mean?" she asks.

"It means that you aren't old enough to understand and your mother and I don't really like talking about that time of our lives," I say.

"Why?" she asks. I sigh.

"The world that Mommy and I grew up in was no where near as nice as the one we live in now. Your mother starved half her life and so did most of District 12. Then there was a war that Mommy played a really big part in and we overcame the government that controlled us and fixed it into the world we have today. But that's all I can tell you right now," I say. "You don't need to get nightmares over what happened like Mommy and I do."

"Okay," she says. I sprinkle flour on the counter and pull the dough out of the bowl.

"Do you want to try to knead it?" I ask her. She nods and I guide her tiny hands through the motions. She giggles as the dough slides through he fingers. She watches intently as I separate the dough into rolls and stuff them with cheese. When there's only enough for one bun left, I look at her.

"Do you want to make one?" I ask her.

"I don't know if I can," she says.

"Of course you can," I say. "Just make a little bowl for the cheese to sit in and once you as the cheese, fold it over and seal the cheese inside. I watch as she forms the dough into a tiny little bowl and puts way to much cheese in the center, but I'm not gonna criticize her, she's five. She folds it over and hands it to me. I fix part of it that wasn't sealed and place it on the tray with the others.

"That was perfect Baby," I say as I pop them in the oven. I stir the stew and notice its almost ready and the buns won't take long to bake. "Go tell Momma dinner's almost ready."

"Okay Daddy," she says and hops off her stool and into the living room to get Katniss. I smile as I watch her, very happy to have such a beautiful little girl and another child on the way.