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Reviewing the database, he was working on he reached out and grabbed his favorite black coffee cup to take a sip when he realized it was empty. Sighing he set his cup back down with a frown and continued working for another fifteen minutes before he couldn’t stand it anymore. Standing up he stretched, his spine popping, before snatching his mug up and turning from the computer and began to head across the cave towards the stairs that would take him back up into the manor.
Why does he have to do this? Because Alfred put his foot down six months ago that there would no longer be a coffee pot allowed in the cave. When he had tried to protest Alfred had claimed it was for his own good and it was unsanitary to keep a coffeepot down in the cave. He disagreed to himself but once Alfred “put his foot down” the battle was already lost and arguing would make no difference.
Shuffling his way out of the clock and over to the kitchen he took a moment to look out the window at the raging snowstorm. It had sleeted all afternoon and then as the sun had fallen the sleet had turned into a heavy snowstorm.
Speaking of which the lights flickered and then turned off as the power went out. Counting silently to ten in his head the lights flickered again as the generators kicked in.
Starting a fresh pot brewing he turned and began to rummage through the freezer for the pre-made meals Alfred had left for him. Alfred had left a week ago to go back to England to visit with friends. He had received an email from the elderly butler two days ago letting him know he was going to be in an area that was very spotty on cell service for the rest of his trip.
Which didn’t bother Bruce at all. The man deserved to have a fantastic vacation without worrying about Bruce. Alfred had held down the fort as Bruce had traveled to find the best martial art trainers in the world. As he trained with the League. He had been gathering the equipment that Bruce needed for the cave and had been working on the task of turning the cave from Bruce’s brief descriptions on the phone into something better than he imagined. Even unfinished it was much farther along than Bruce thought it would be when he had come home.
So, Bruce had insisted that Alfred go. The poor man hadn’t had a break the entire time Bruce was training and he needed Alfred’s support when he was ready and he was predicting that he would be ready in about three to four months. After threatening Alfred with a ridiculously (Alfred is worth every penny even more) high raise the man finally gave in and proceeded to make enough pre-made frozen meals to cover the month that he would be gone. So that Bruce wouldn’t resort to those “horrid take-out places”.
Alfred worries too much. He can take care of himself.
The main phone line began to ring pulling him from his thoughts. Padding over to the phone he answers. “Wayne Residence.”
“Oh, thank God!!” A female voice exclaimed.
“I’m sorry who is this?” Bruce asked confused.
“Are you Mr. Wayne or someone who lives there?”
“This is Bruce Wayne. Who is this I am speaking with?” Bruce frowned maybe this was a prank call?
“Elizabeth Monterey. I am so sorry sir. I work for the Drakes.” The woman paused and Bruce waited. The Drakes? The name sounded familiar but he has only been back in Gotham for about six months.
When he failed to reply quick enough for the panicked woman on the phone continued. “They live next door to you. Look I am just going to be frank. I don’t know you and you don’t know me and…do you know the Drakes at all?” Then the woman paused but muttered under her breath “Not that it really matters at this point.”
Bruce was certain he wasn’t suppose to hear that last part. “I haven’t been back in Gotham all that long but now that you mention it yes, they are my neighbors.”
“You are at home, right? Oh, wait you said Wayne residence this number is a home number, right? Right. So, there might have been a massive misunderstanding. Mr. and Mrs. Drake had a flight out of Gotham this morning to Egypt. Anyway! The important thing is that I couldn’t make it out there this morning and I called several times and left messages saying I couldn’t make it out there until this afternoon. Well, I got an email from Mrs. Drake three hours ago with care instructions and I…I called them this morning. I called early this afternoon too and I told them that I couldn’t make it out there at all. You know because of the storm…and I thought that they must be upset about missing and cancelling their flight and that was why they hadn’t called me back. But…but! Then I got that email and I am really concerned…”
“Take a deep breath. In and out. In and out.” Bruce interrupted. The woman sounded like she might pass out on him. As she had been rambling her voice had gotten more and more panicked, breathy, and she had begun to speak faster and faster. “Okay. So, while you breathe for a moment let me recap what I caught from that and you can correct me if I get anything wrong. Okay?”
“Okay.” The woman puffed out.
“The Drakes had a flight scheduled for this morning to Egypt. You were suppose to be out there this morning before they left for their flight so you told them that you would be able to be there in the afternoon if that worked for them instead. You couldn’t make it so you called and left messages for them. They didn’t answer either. Then because of the storm you couldn’t make it out to their home this afternoon either. So, you called again and didn’t receive any response. Then you received an email three hours ago which pertained to care instructions of some sort. Something in this email has made you concerned about something. Is this all correct so far?” Bruce recited slowly giving the woman a chance to catch her breath.
“Yes…” The woman answered but Bruce cut her off before she could begin rambling again. It was time to take control of the situation and this was a good opportunity to practice.
“Okay. So, what is in this email that is concerning?” Bruce asked before the coffee pot finished and he reached out to pour himself a cup.
“The care instructions. I’m worried because they sent me the care instructions. Mr. Wayne I’m not out there. I can’t get out to their home. The way the email was written it sounded like they expect me to need them! And then I called the airline because they weren’t answering their phones and they were on their flight!!”
“What are the care instructions for specifically? Perhaps they just expect you to take care of whatever it is when you can get out to their house.” Bruce reasoned.
The dead silence from the woman was jarring. Bruce wasn’t sure what he had said that was so shocking though. Houseplants typically don’t die from lack of watering for several days at least, right?
“Mr. Wayne. I’m their nanny or I was going to be their nanny. This is the first time. I am supposed to be taking care of their son while they are gone.”
Bruce froze and his jaw dropped open. Surely not? “So, you believe that they left their son home alone all day? Surely, they would have found someone else to watch their child. At a minimum until you could take over? Have you tried calling the land line for the Drake household? Perhaps their son will answer.”
“Mr. Wayne, Timothy is less than a month old. I have tried calling their land line but no one is answering. I just…Could you run over and check? I know I am asking a lot but I…I can’t live with myself if something happens to Timothy because I couldn’t make it out there. I have a really bad feeling. Please can you check? The roads are so bad I can’t check myself. Please.”
“Yes of course it will take me some time to get over there. Is this number a good one to reach you at?”
“Yes, sir it’s my land line but I won’t be leaving my house. Thank you. Thank you so much. I really appreciate this.”
“You’re welcome better safe than sorry with children. I will call you from my cell phone when I get over to the Drakes.”
“I will be right by my phone. Again, thank you so much!”
Giving his goodbyes and promising again to call as soon as he finds out what is going on over at the Drakes, he finally gets off the phone. Sighing he looks out the window in the kitchen. Seeing nothing but white as the snow falls fast and thick, blowing rapidly past the window. Grabbing his coffee cup, he downs it and then turns to begin getting ready.
After gathering everything he could possibly need and getting everything packed into his Jeep Wagoneer, he began the slow drive over to Drake Manor. Normally this drive would only take a couple of minutes. Tonight, it took him twenty minutes before he could see the unlit Manor. Pulling up to the front door he left the car idling as he jumped out and slowly made his way, slipping and sliding over to the front door. Ringing the doorbell, he rubbed his arms as he waited for someone to answer. After several minutes of nothing he rang again…and again…and again. Frowning he pounded on the door.
“Hello? It’s Bruce Wayne your neighbor. I am just checking in. The nanny couldn’t make it and is concerned.” He yelled hoping someone would hear him and open the door.
When no one answered yet again he reached out and tried the door. Locked. Stepping back, he eyed the house. Normally he would leave and let it go at this point but as this was about an infant. He sighed and pulled out the lockpicks he had in his pocket.
Once the lock clicked, he quickly opened the door and stepped inside closing it behind himself to keep the snow out. Once the howling wind was quieted by the door closing it was impossible to ignore the muted sound of a baby screaming upstairs.
Well, he knew that the baby was here at least. That meant that there must be a caregiver of some sort in the house.
Pausing he shook the snow off of himself and tried to kick the snow off of his boots. “Hello?! I’m Bruce Wayne your neighbor. I am here to make sure everything is alright. The Drakes nanny Elizabeth Monterey called me concerned when she couldn’t reach anyone here. She is concerned for their son Timothy?”
When he received no response except the continuing wailing from upstairs, he began to check the main level. When he found no one, he poked his head into the basement only long enough to be sure no one was there before returning to the stairs that lead up to the second level.
“Hello? Is anyone home?” He called up the stairs again.
When he again received no response, he sighed before slowly making his way upstairs and checking every room as he went. When he found no one, he back tracked to the staircase and moved up to the third floor.
The baby’s cries were louder but still muted. Again, he moved room to room until he came to the last two rooms. Opening the door on his right he found that it was the master bedroom. A quick sweep confirmed that there was no one in the room. Moving to stand in front of the final door in the house he placed his hand on the doorknob and then paused.
“Hello? I’m your neighbor, Bruce Wayne? Elizabeth Monterey called me to check on everyone when she couldn’t get ahold of anyone here. Is anyone in there? I don’t want to scare you. I mean you no harm.” Bruce said and then waited for a response, any response.
Sighing he slowly turned the knob and opened the door. Moving into the room he glanced around looking for the caregiver. He checked the closet and the attached bathroom. When he found no one, he moved over to the ornate crib to peek at the baby.
The tiniest baby was laying in the crib, soft blue blanket thrown aside as his arms and legs jerkily flailed around. His face was cherry red as he continued to scream and cry. His teary icy blue eyes blinked uncomprehendingly and his frizzy black hair stood in all directions.
Glancing around again he reached into his pocket to pull out his cell phone. Quickly dialing and waiting for her to pick up.
“Hello? Is this Mr. Wayne?” Elizabeth answered on the first ring.
“Please call me Bruce. I have searched the house and the only person I have found here is the baby.”
“Oh my god.” Elizabeth gasped. “Is Timothy, okay? Is he alright? I can hear him crying.” Elizabeth sounded like she was going to start crying herself. Which was the last thing Bruce needed.
“I think so? I don’t know anything about babies.” Bruce said still staring down at the screaming baby.
“Is he injured?”
“I don’t think so. I don’t see any blood or bruises. He is moving his arms and legs but it is jerky.” He answered unsure now concerned about the jerky movement of the baby’s arms and legs.
“That’s normal. The jerky movements are normal for a one-month-old.” Her voice trailed off before she began again abruptly. “There isn’t anyone there. If they left him alone to catch their flight, he has been in that house alone for over eight hours. He needs to have his diaper changed and he needs to be fed and...and burped and he needs tummy time and cuddle time…” Elizabeth said “Look if there isn’t anyone else there, you’re going to have to take care of him until I can get out there.”
Bruce startled for all he liked to believe he was an intelligent man for some reason the idea that he was going to end up being responsible for the care and survival of a baby had not occurred to him. He has trained to fend off armed assassins coming at him in groups up to fifteen. He has never been more panicked in in his life.
“Wait a minute! I don’t know the first thing about how to take care of a baby. I’ve never been around a baby that I have had to take care of before not even for a few minutes. I am not qualified…”
“Bruce!” Elizabeth cut him off. “I know that Timothy is not your responsibility. His parents should never have left him alone in that house. No matter if they thought I would be there in the hour. But…I can’t get to him through this storm. CPS can’t get to him either. You can’t drive him into the city either. Hell, I don’t think the police or a damn snow truck can get up there tonight. I am so sorry. It has to be you. He can’t be left alone. He needs you. Please. Please I will talk you through it. I promise I will stay on the phone with you the whole time if necessary. Please.”
Closing his eyes and shuddering as the baby let out another ear-splitting wail, he took a deep breath to steady himself and then squared his shoulders. “Okay. Your right. I have no idea what I am doing but your right. So, what do I need to do?”
“First things first I need you to go over to the dresser and in one of the drawers are onesies. Grab one and take it over to the changing table on the other side of the room.”
Turning and following her directive he headed over to the dresser and began to open the drawers. Riffling through it he pulled out what looked like a leotard but it had snaps on the crotch. Was this a onesie? After describing the clothing and verifying it was indeed a onesie, he riffled through the drawer pulling one out with long sleeves. Eying the clothing critically he decided it would have to do for now so he took it over to the table. A Onesie? Who on earth decided that was what this thing should be called?
“Done.”
“You need to pick him up and put him on the changing table. Have you ever held a baby as young as him?”
“No. I have to support his head, right?” That’s what they always say on the TV anyway.
“Yes, support his head and neck.”
He could handle this. He can do this. Moving back to the crib he paused and tried to figure out the best way to pick him up. Finally deciding to just go for it he bent over the baby and tucked his hands behind the baby’s head and neck. Then using wrists and his lower forearms, he used a pincer like arm movement he slid his wrists and lower forearms under the baby’s sides to lift and then moved slowly and stiffly over to the changing table to awkwardly lay the baby down.
“Done.” He grumbled.
“Alright. It’s time to undress him and change his diaper.”
Eying the screaming baby he grabbed the snaps at the crotch of his leotard and pulled them open. It took several minutes to carefully slide the onesie up underneath the squirming baby and pull it off.
“I got the leotard off. How do I change the diaper?”
“There are tabs on the either side. Do you see them?” Elizabeth paused presumably waiting for confirmation from him so he let out a grunt which seemed to appease her as she continued. “You can just pull them open and then you gently grab his ankles with one hand and lift his bottom off of the soiled diaper. Somewhere on the station are wet wipes. Use those to clean him up. Then there is a bottle of lotion put that on him. After that you should find a bottle of powder on or around the table as well. Use that after the lotion. Then put on the new diaper. Just repeat the process backwards to put a new one on him. Make sure you can fit two fingers under the waist band of the new diaper so you know it is not too tight.”
Pulling his cell phone from his ear he flipped it to speaker and set it on the table up by the baby’s head. Looking around the table he located the items she indicated and set them on the table as well.
Moving on so as to get this over with as quickly as possible he opened the tabs and pulled the front part of the diaper down. Only to immediately be sprayed in the face as the baby began peeing on him.
Dropping the baby’s ankles, he jumped back sputtering. The baby screamed even louder at being jostled and suddenly landing back in his own mess. Bruce leaped forward and snatched the baby wipes up and quickly wiped his face off.
Taking a moment to steady himself mentally he jumped back in and quickly grabbed the baby’s ankles again and using four wipes at once wrapped around his hand he began to clean the baby.
“Done.” He grunted when he was finished.
“Great now you need to put the onesie on him and then I will talk you through how to feed him.”
Grunting he snatched up the leotard and unsnapped the bottom. Then struggled to get the baby’s flailing arms and turning head through the correct holes. Once he had all body parts through the correct holes, he paused with the ridiculous garment bunched up under the baby’s arms. Tugging he managed to get it pulled down to a little lower than the baby’s chest before pausing. Thinking quickly, he decided that what worked before would probably work again so he grabbed the baby’s tiny toothpick ankles once again and lifted to finish.
“Done.” He would have thought that the baby’s cries would have lessened but the baby just continued to wail. He could feel a headache coming on…and he was just getting started on taking care of this baby.
“Okay so the first step is to make his bottle the formula is downst...”
The lights went out. The baby was silent for a moment and then resumed his screaming.
“Elizabeth?” He grumbled. “Elizabeth?” Reaching over he snatched up his phone to see that his phone was showing no signal. Clenching his fists with frustration he couldn’t believe his luck. No power and clearly the cell towers were out for some reason as well.
Okay first things first clearly the baby formula is downstairs. He needs to feed the baby first. There must be instructions on how to do this on whatever packaging the baby food is in. She had called it formula. So that is what he would look for.
Glancing down at the screaming flailing baby he grimaced and tried to decide if he should take the baby with him or put him back in his crib. As tempting as it was to put the baby back in the crib, he ultimately decided that if he is going to feed him, he would need the baby downstairs eventually anyway.
Carefully picking the baby up again using the same tried and true method he used before he slowly made his way downstairs to the kitchen. The baby’s screams echoing through the silent house. When he made it to the kitchen he paused and glanced around for a good spot to put the infant while he searched for the formula. The open floor plan allowed him to glance over at the living room with its soft thick white carpet. Which was conveniently in view of the kitchen. Perfect.
Shuffling slowly over he knelt and carefully placed the baby on the carpeted floor. Standing he waited to see if the baby would try to escape or roll around. After a couple of minutes of watching the wailing infant, he decided that it was probably safe to continue and quickly began searching the refrigerator for anything labeled “Formula”.
Finding nothing in the mostly empty fridge he expanded his search to the cabinets. Finally, he found a can that looked promising. Smirking with victory he turned the can over to read the directions.
Step one wash your hands. No problem. Step two. Wash bottle, teat and cap thoroughly. Boil for 5 minutes Leave covered until use. Turning he inspected the stovetop and was relieved to find it was gas. Dropping down he checked the lower cabinets until he found a large pot. Filling it with water and putting it on the stove he turned back to the formula can while he waited for the water to boil. Luckily when he looked back in the cabinet, he found the formula in he found a plastic bottle, rubber top…a teat? And a plastic cap that would secure the rubber top to the bottle. Perfect.
Step three boil drinking water and allow to cool until lukewarm. Turning back, he set a small pot to boil water for the bottle. Step four consult feeding table. First pour water into the bottle. Then add powder using only the scoop provided. Level scoop using inner rim of can. Glancing down at the…feeding table he started with the age of the infant…Elizabeth had said he wasn’t a month old yet…so he quickly decided to go with the two to four weeks section. So, he needed four ounces of water and four scoops of formula…number of feeds per day? The baby eats more than three times a day?
Frowning he followed the chart with his eyes to find…five. Five feedings a day? Could that baby even eat 20 ounces of formula in a day? He had no idea. He would trust the damn instructions in this case. It would be fine.
Make sure the scoop is dry and suspend the scoop on inner rim of the can. Close lid tightly after each use, and store in a cool dry place. Note it is safer to feed immediately after prepared. Easy enough. Moving on.
Step six. Cap the feeding bottle and shake well until powder is fully dissolved. Check temperature before feeding the baby. FEED IMMEDIATELY. Glancing over at the wailing baby he grimaced. No problems there either. The infant was only three to four feedings behind he must be starving.
Hearing the water begin to boil he quickly tossed the bottle, rubber top, and cap thing in the water and checked his watch. Carefully following the directions, he finally had the prepared bottle in hand. Moving into the living room he set the bottle on the side table and then crouched to pick up the baby again using his tried-and-true method before shuffling slowly over to the couch and sitting down. Gently he laid the baby down on his lap.
Once settled he was faced with his next task. How to feed the baby. He wouldn’t eat lying down so assuming that it is the same for babies…He would need to prop the baby up. Biting his lip, he tried remember how he has seen parents do it in restaurants and such. But most of those babies were so much bigger than this one.
Well, there was that one time he saw a young woman holding her small baby in the crook of one arm while holding the bottle with the other. That baby had been at an angle not sitting up nor laying down. He could do that and he was running out of time to feed the baby before he would have to make another bottle.
But how was he suppose to get the child into the crook of one arm and support his head and neck? Bending over and creating a cradle with his right arm he placed his left hand behind the infants head, neck and upper back and slowly slid the baby over to his arm. After a minute or so of slowly sliding and wiggling the baby this way and that he was finally satisfied that the baby was in the crook of his arm securely.
Grabbing the bottle, he shook it up before he paused. He was suppose to test the temperature. Grunting in irritation he slowly turned his wrist holding the baby out.
“You can stop screaming now. It’s time to eat.” He grumbled before holding the bottle to the screaming baby’s mouth. It took several moments and several avoided flailing fists before the baby began to eat. The silence was soothing. Nothing but the quiet sucking sounds of the baby eating. This was exhausting. Much more so than he would have thought.
Watching the baby eat was a little strange. The infant was staring right at his face. Watching him. Even his flailing limbs were subdued. It appeared to Bruce that eating and watching his face was using up all of the tiny infant’s attention.
Looking over the baby he noticed that there was a bit of lint in his hair. Reaching up he gently pulled it out. The baby’s hair was extremely soft and down-like. Gently tracing a finger down the baby’s face, he noticed his skin was also soft.
So, the rest of the baby’s meal passed peacefully as they stared at each other. Once the bottle was empty, he gently took it away placing it on the side table. Realizing that he should have been strategizing while the infant was eating, he thought back to his conversation with Elizabeth. He needed to burp him, tummy time, and cuddle.
Burp him. How on earth was he suppose to do that? He tried to remember if he has ever seen anyone burping their baby before. Coming up with nothing he grunted. How was he suppose to burp this baby? It wasn’t on the formula can.
Tummy time…Assuming that it was as the name suggested that should be easy enough to do. So, he decided to skip burping. Once he had the baby on the floor he stood up and stretched out his back. The baby was laying on his stomach with his head turned to one side and his limbs once again jerkily flailed about. Tiny fists gently hitting the carpet. Every so often he would slowly and jerkily turn his head to the opposite side.
Most importantly…the baby was not crying and for the most part was quiet. Satisfied that he must have done this correctly he dropped back down onto the couch. How long was he suppose to leave the baby like this?
He checked his phone again. Still no service. Turning his thoughts back to what he needs to complete on the cave he moved the car up on his list. If the car was ready to go it should be able to drive through even this bad storm. He had prioritized getting the computer working and his suit.
He was still trying to decide if he should build a bunch of pockets into his suit to hold the various equipment he wants to keep on his person while he patrols or if he should use a harness, or maybe a belt? Would a belt be able to hold everything though? Maybe the criminals would be able to steal his equipment from a pocket, harness or belt too easily. How could he minimize the risk of pickpockets?
Perhaps he shouldn’t move the car up on his list of priorities. In a few months when he will be ready to begin patrolling Gotham it will not be winter anymore and storms like this will no longer be a concern. The motorcycle should as he previously thought be perfectly suitable until the car is hopefully ready for next winter.
Rushing would only end badly he reminded himself. He needs his equipment to be reliable and ready for the field. Just like he had to go and train so he would be ready physically to face the streets of Gotham as its newest protector. If he wanted to live long enough to make a difference, he needed to be patient.
Idly he noticed that the baby’s face was once again turned towards him but not focused on him like it was while the baby was eating earlier. The infant’s face was scrunching up and he was clearly uncomfortable.
Jumping up he moved towards the infant and folded himself down on his knees next to him. Not sure what to do to soothe the infant he thought back and remembered a woman patting her baby on the butt as she swayed and chatted with others at the Gala, they were all attending.
Reaching out Bruce gently began patting the infant on his bottom. Which the infant did not appreciate and made his opinion known when he began to cry. Shuffling around he eventually had the baby back in his arms as he tried to sway like that woman had and gently patted his diapered butt. Which was strange. Why do people pat babies on the butt? It isn’t appropriate for adults to do that so why do people do it to babies?
Perhaps he should look it up later when he has free time just to appease his curiosity.
His meandering thoughts came to an abrupt end when the infant spewed a large amount of the formula all over himself and Bruce…and the carpet. Damn the infant even got the couch. Holy…
Then the baby burped. Loudly. No longer crying the baby’s brilliant blue eyes were again appeased and staring innocently up at his face. Clearly no longer uncomfortable.
No wonder the kid needs to eat five times a day when he throws up half of his meal. How has the medical community not found a solution to this? Perhaps he needs to assign some scientists at Wayne Enterprises on to the problem. Mental note made he eyed the mess before deciding that he needs to get the baby and himself cleaned up first.
Decision made he turned towards the stairs and made his way back to the baby’s room. Once there he went through the process of changing the baby’s leotard only to find that he had filled his diaper again. So, he amended his mental note to include the bathroom issue as well when he speaks to the scientists. If they can fix the throwing up and defecating issues then babies won’t need to eat so much surely. He also made sure to not be in the line of fire. He would never make that mistake again.
After getting both of them cleaned up he moved over to the chair in the corner of the room. A rocking chair with a rocking footstool in pristine white. It seemed like a poor color choice if the baby frequently vomits, defecates, and urinates on everything. But what does he know? Maybe he is just doing everything wrong.
The next item on Elizabeth’s list was cuddle time. He doesn’t know what cuddle time means in reference to babies. But surely it is basically the same? So, he settled himself in the chair and held the tiny infant on his chest.
Gently rocking the chair, he watched as the infant yawned and blinked owlishly up at him. Again, back to staring at his face. Tiny fists jerking against his chest. After a while the infant quieted and fell asleep. Not trusting that he wouldn’t wake up the infant if he tried to move yet Bruce continued rocking and closed his eyes. Just for a moment.
He jerked awake when he heard a bang downstairs. He tensed up blinking rapidly to get the sleep out of his eyes but before he could move, he heard a woman shouting downstairs.
“Bruce?! Bruce?! Are you here? Its Elizabeth Monterey!!”
Relaxing Bruce glanced down to see that while the infants’ eyes were open, he was just quietly chewing on his fist staring up at his face.
Glancing at the clock on the wall Bruce noted that it was four o clock in the morning. Wonderful. He could hear Elizabeth making her way upstairs. Thankfully she had stopped yelling.
“Well tiny Timothy. It looks like our time is up.” Bruce murmured to the staring infant on his chest. “I doubt there will be any unexpected circumstances like this again. So this is probably goodbye.”
The infants small slobbery fist flailed up and bumped against his free hand. The tiny fist opened and he grasped his pinkie cooing softly.
Bruce couldn’t hold back a small smile. He was a cute little thing. When he wasn’t screaming nonstop. Or making disgusting diapers. Or throwing up everywhere. Or pissing on his face. Not that Bruce would ever tell anyone about that incident.