Bruce was only 10, but he was a smart 10 year old. He's never had problems in school, nor was he a problem in general. Bruce didn't need a lot, because he had it naturally without even asking anybody. You, as his mother, were busy 24/7. Work kept you out of state all the time, and when you came back, you had to leave again.

As for his father, he was a stay-at-home dad, but he never really paid Bruce any mind, knowing his son didn't need much. He was a good dad, obviously, but just like you, he never had time to give Bruce attention or even try to cut time and give it to him.

Bruce walked into the mansion, backpack still on his back. Alfred was cooking lunch, as per usual, and Bruce was going to the dining room to do his homework. Alfred walked by the table and set down a steaming plate of Spaghetti with Cobb Salad. Bruce looked up for a second then went back to his homework.

"Your mother called, Master Bruce." Alfred said, going back into the kitchen to clean up. "She was wondering if you were doing well." The butler continued. Bruce looked back up at his butler/caretaker. His mother was calling for him? He couldn't say he wasn't surprised, he missed her a lot. Bruce stood up and walked to Alfred, looking up at him.

"Did she say if she'll be home?" The young boy asked, curiosity clearly evident in his eyes. He was really missing you, and he didn't like being away from you, but he knew work was important, and that any interruptions or problems would cause you to lose your job. Bruce hated to be home by himself without his mother. Believe it or not, he was definitely a mama's boy.

Alfred shook his head no, causing Bruce to frown and go finish his homework. After his homework was done, he did his usual evening routine and sat on the couch, turning on the TV and watching a few cartoons. The cartoons rarely did any justice whenever Bruce was in his little state of missing you. Not even those crime documentaries you always watched could soothe him. He needed his mother with him. Maybe he’d try something else.

Bruce got down and walked to the office, peeking inside. Sure enough, his father was sitting at the desk, working hard. Bruce hesitated but definitely was not gonna try to get his dad to come and entertain him, so he shut the door and went upstairs to his parents shared bedroom. A big bedroom, fit for a village. Your side of the room was evident. Neat, tidy, and…obviously screaming rich business woman. Bruce slowly trotted over to your closet and pushed it open. A walk in. He was never allowed in the room, for whatever dumb reason, but since everyone was so busy, he could come in.

When Bruce walked into the closet, it was almost like walking into a mall. You had so many clothes and shoes. Business attire, and more. He was so mesmerized, just a little. He had his own little walk in, so he wasn’t surprised, but your walk in was like…every teenage girls dream. He walked out of the closet and climbed up onto the bed to reach your dresser. Piled neatly. A clock and pills. Boring. Bruce exhaled and got down, strutting himself into your bathroom, the shared one you and his dad always had problems sharing. The bathroom was like a school bathroom, but with a walk in tub. The counters weren’t as clean as the rest of the house. Your side was cluttered with makeup and hair care and skin care items, while his dad’s was just…a messier mess.

Bruce walked up to the counter, now tall enough to finally look over it, he curiously looked over all of your makeup. You really loved makeup, didn’t you? Maybe if he got you more makeup you’d be so happy and stay home forever! Or maybe you’d just wear it more than the makeup you do wear. Bruce just shrugged to himself and picked up your lipstick. Hm, an almost peachy pink. It was a tone you always bought, you said it perfectly complimented your skin. And that was the truth. Peach goes well with fairly tan skin. Bruce looked over all of the other makeup items. Mascara, liner, blush, and eyelash extensions.