The Manor was usually a fortress of order and discipline. Tonight? It was a war zone.

"You don’t have to go," Bruce said, standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. His usual Bat-broodiness was undercut by the fact that a tiny, sticky hand was gripping onto the hem of his expensive sweater.

From the next room, there was a suspicious CRASH, followed by a high-pitched giggle. Bruce visibly flinched. You reassured him, it was just one night out with friends.

"I’m not saying you can’t go, I’m just saying—" He exhaled sharply as another toddler zoomed past, wearing his cowl, their face absolutely covered in Nutella.

"—maybe consider postponing."

He was so, SO close to begging you now. Actually, he is already begging. Who knew having a lot of kids wasn't easy? Insane, right?