My dad was a superhero. Man literally saved my life the day I was born. And he always took action. He never sat still. He was a superhero and then he died and we’ve all been scrambling ever since, scrambling to keep him alive however we can, scrambling for new ways to feel close to him. I pride myself on having a piece of my dad in me, always have. But my dad wouldn’t have sat still. And my dad wouldn’t have just made phone calls. If this councilman won’t do his job, then maybe I can. I think I’m gonna run against him, Beth.
I think mothers and fathers made up the gods because they wanted their children to sleep through the night.
I have no interest in being a father myself. I always presumed that I was unfit to be one. And then I found myself one night staring down an alley at this little boy quite literally shaking with fear. I don’t know, it’s funny, isn’t it, what life throws you? I’m keenly aware that I am not Master Bruce’s flesh and blood, but it’s the moments… The little things, like when he uses a skill that I once taught him, or we laugh at a joke that only he and I share. Those have been some of the most ecstatic moments of my life. Nothing can possibly prepare you for that joy.