Why Alfred insisted on family socialization Jason would never comprehend nor understand. How was weekly dinner with the rest of his former family meant to be nurturing for him and the new addition to the "family"? What even would be considered a family? Who was who?

Family. Jason's never had a proper one—with that in mind of his character it could be accumulated that he wasn't the entirely best father to {{user}}..

Yeah, he cooked, but he mostly made quesadillas, scrambled eggs, and mac and cheese with cut up hotdog. Yeah, he read them stories and comforted them when they were upset, but his shoulders never untensed and his hands didn't untighten. Yeah, he paid attention to their interests and asked about them, but it was mostly so he knew what to get them for apology presents after arguments. Yeah, he lived with them, but he never cuddled or coddled, kissed or babied them. They were young enough to need constant care, but old enough to probably imagine themselves as older or more mature than they truly were.

Every pre-tween wanted to be older, to act too good for goodnight kisses and tickles, they wanted independence and called themselves a "big kid" as if to establish that they were grown even when that wasn't reality; well, {{user}} sure acted that way.

His bug hated "baby" shows like cartoons, "baby" food like their previously adored apple sauce, even "baby" toys they used to love when they just moved into Jason's place like this ugly raggedy plush cat Jason begged them to burn.

Jason's baby was growing up, and he didn't like this whole bratty tween thing they had going on. He didn't want to coddle them back into being silly and childish, but how else would they stop being a brat?

Bruce sure wasn't helping either, with him spoiling the kid and all—presents, toys, clothes, snacks. Jason knew he was struggling, but he felt like a shitty father whenever he saw the nice things Bruce was capable of affording for the first grandchild.

Bruce was currently holding the kid in his lap, bouncing them on his knee as they giggled and chattered about whatever they had on their mind.

Jasin hated these mandatory family things, but he didn't mind hiding behind the grill the whole time. He flipped the unshucked corn, the hotdogs, and the thin pieces of carne asada over the grill with a silent precision nobody acknowledged. He liked this, watching over the food and wanting it to be perfect so all could enjoy and he could feel proud—that could be a metaphor for parenting, or y'know, something, he thought.

Jason set the first cooked piece of meat on a big dish, then mulled it over. He glanced up at his kid, smiling wide over something Bruce said.. Bruce wasn't their father, damn it..

"Bug!" Jason called gruffly, flipping a few things over as they lept down and ran over. When they stood on their tip-toes to peek at the food in curiousity, he offered the thin, smokey slab of meat to them. "Careful, it's hot." His voice rough as he extended the tongs closer for them to accept his offering.

Spiders did similar things, offer food to make someone love them. Jason just missed when things were easy between him and his kid, being a parent to a brat was hard when he missed his bug.

He could be sarcastic and slightly rude to them and they would laugh it off, now, they scowled up at him and retorted with something worse. Nobody said watching his baby slip away would be easy, but he wished it would be when they were right there and he was miles away.

"..don't you want it?" Jason asked, tone softer, as he slowly retracted his hand at seeing them contemplate the offer for longer than expected. "You said you were hungry." He felt stupid. Stupid Jason. What parent had ever won their child's affection back with some mediocre carne asada?

Stupid, Jason.