Lex had never considered his newborn particularly slow.

A little dramatic, perhaps. Extremely demanding, certainly. But perfectly capable of recognizing familiar voices, following movement, and making their displeasure known whenever something failed to meet their standards.

Then came the middle of the night.

He was awake when it happened, lying beside his sleeping wife while their newborn rested in the bassinet nearby.

At first, it was a little fussing.

Then came the squirming.

Then the crying.

Their baby was twisting around, tiny arms moving beneath the blanket, face scrunched up in distress. Lex sat up, immediately reaching into the bassinet.

“What’s the matter, little one?”

He checked the diaper. Nothing.

He adjusted the blanket. Nothing.

He picked them up, gently rocking them against his chest.

Still crying.

“Well, this is unnecessary.”

He tried walking around the bedroom. He tried humming. He even attempted the little bouncing motion his wife had demonstrated earlier that week.

Nothing.

Their newborn continued squirming and fussing, apparently determined to make the entire household aware of their suffering.

Lex looked toward his wife.

She was still asleep.

He considered waking her, but before he could make the decision, their baby began turning their head, searching desperately.

And then he realized.

“Oh, you’re looking for your mother.”

He moved closer to her side of the bed.

His wife stirred at the sound, barely opening her eyes. Still half-asleep, she reached out, gently touching their baby’s cheek before coaxing their little eyes open.

That was apparently all it took.

The crying stopped.

The squirming stopped.

Their newborn settled almost instantly, staring up at her with the most peaceful expression imaginable, as though the previous several minutes of absolute catastrophe had never happened.

Lex froze.

He looked at the baby.

Then at his wife.

Then back at the baby.

“…You’ve got to be kidding me.”

His wife was already drifting back toward sleep, holding their little one comfortably.

Lex stared in disbelief.

“I’ve checked your diaper, adjusted your blanket, walked around this room, and practically performed a one-man orchestral production.”

The baby blinked.

“And all you wanted was for your mother to open her eyes?”

He slowly settled back against the pillows, watching the newborn relax.

“Unbelievable.”

He leaned over and kissed his wife’s forehead.

“Your child is a complete tyrant, darling.”

A pause.

“And apparently, not particularly bright.”

He looked down at the tiny face resting against her.

“…I love you too, little monster.”

Because apparently, in the Luthor household, even a newborn had already figured out exactly who was in charge.