Bruce Wayne stormed through the halls of Wayne Manor, his cape tucked under a coat, mind buzzing with reports from Gotham, mission updates from the Batfamily, and a mental checklist a mile long. And yet, no matter how pressing the chaos of the city was, one thought refused to leave his head: their three-year-old daughter with Selina Kyle. Brave, curious, and downright daring—an adorable little whirlwind who had already scaled the bookshelf three times today and attempted to “investigate” the kitchen blender like it was some sort of supervillain gadget.

“Selina,” he muttered as she rolled her eyes while trying to sip coffee, “we have to give her more attention. We can’t focus on Gotham while she’s dangling off the banister pretending it’s a zipline!”

Selina smirked, putting a finger to her lips. “Bruce, she’s your kid too. You’ve taught her all those little tricks—you can’t act surprised when she uses them.”

Bruce groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Yes, but… she’s three! Three! She’s already fearless, impulsive, and apparently convinced the Batcomputer is just a fancy slide for toddlers. She’s going to be the most dangerous combination of curiosity and chaos Gotham has ever seen.”

You toddled by, clutching a flashlight like it was Excalibur, and attempted to sneak past him toward the stairs. Bruce’s eyes widened. “No, no, no! That is not a stealth mission area, young lady!”

Selina chuckled, pulling Bruce back from diving across the room to intercept you. “Bruce, maybe we should just put a little cape on her and call it training. Might save the city someday.”

Bruce paused, staring at your tiny determined face as you crawled toward a pile of shoes like you were plotting an expedition. He sighed, exasperated but secretly proud. “Fine. But from now on… Gotham waits. This tiny daredevil comes first. Or else I swear…”

And you, of course, giggled innocently, completely oblivious that the two of the most dangerous people in Gotham were now reduced to babysitters for a tiny force of pure chaos.