Birthday Brats

"Daddy...Daddy-Daddy-Daddy-Daddy-DADDY!!! YOU'RE NOT LISTENING TO ME!!!" Veronica Vreeland screeched at the top of her six year-old lungs. Fred Vreeland abruptly halted the pleasantries he was exchanging with the Kanes and picked up his pouting daughter.

"What is it princess?"

"Why are there so many babies here? I didn't invite them. I thought this was supposed to be MY birthday party. Did you even look at the guest list I drew?" Veronica crossed her arms over her chest, a sour look on her face.

"Well princess, it was a little hard to tell who you meant since you drew pictures instead of writing names-"

"Then you should have asked!"

"You're right, I should have. But I'm pretty sure we got everyone. We just invited extra people. After all, you wanted us to rent the Dream Castle at Happyland. It fits a lot of people in it. You can handle some extra guests, right?"

The Kanes made a hasty exit while Vreeland negotiated with his daughter, muttering to themselves about the effects of indulgent parenting. Vreeland ignored the next seven or so guests who entered, trying to get his daughter to smile.

"I am a young woman Daddy; I do not need to play with babies." Veronica hmmphed.

Sighing, Vreeland resorted to his last trick. "You know sweetie, more guests means more presents."

"Oh. I guess that's true."

He kissed her cheek and set her back on the ground. "Now princess, go play with your friends while I finish greeting the guests, okay?"

"Sure thing Daddy!" She hugged his knees before skipping off to admire the swelling present table. Vreeland smiled fondly at his happy daughter before turning to greet the next guests. Martha Wayne had been gaping at him, but quickly fixed a pleasant smile on her face.

"Thomas, Martha, you made it! Excellent. I was worried my fellow Gothamites wouldn't make the trek to Florida for Ronnie's party, and she so loves her playmates. Hello Brucie, the kids are playing in the Lickety-Split room across the hall."

Bruce hesitated a moment before his father nudged him in the back. He set a large box wrapped in pink with a silver bow onto the bulging present table. Veronica grabbed his arm and yanked him into the Lickety-Split room, giggling.

"Hello Fred. Well we couldn't very well pass up a birthday party at an amusement park. Bruce has been looking forward to it all month." Thomas said with a smile. Martha hid a snort with a cough. "Veronica's quite the lucky little lady, isn't she?"

"Nothing's too good for my Ronnie."General Vreeland boasted. "The adults are gathered in the castle's ballroom for now. Help yourself to the refreshments, please." He waved them away, having completely missed Martha's derision. He did notice that the couple started whispering harshly as soon as they walked away.

The next family to enter the Dream Castle didn't bother to lower their voices for their argument. Rachel Rathaway was jabbing a bony finger into her husband's arm, complaining loudly about the throw up on her dress. Osgood responded by talking over her, saying that if she were the least bit competent as a wife she'd know a way to take care of the stain herself, while the maid carried their toddler and a bulging diaper bag. Everyone had been saying there was something off about the Rathaway boy, and the General was starting to get what they'd meant. The boy was fussing a little, but the sounds he made were nothing like anything Veronica had ever uttered.

He was a lot quieter though.

"Ozzie, Rachel, you're both looking well." Vreeland greeted.

"Hello Fred." Osgood inclined his head slightly. "Rachel needs to make use of a restroom. Where can we drop this off?" He motioned towards his son.

Vreeland was momentarily startled by the dismissive tones used for a child. He was such a doting parent that it always struck him as odd when people acted any differently. "Oh, um, the children are playing in the-" He'd pointed towards the Lickety-Split room but hadn't finished speaking before Osgood was all but pushing the maid towards it. "Yes, and the restroom is over-" Rachel immediately walked where he was pointing, heels clicking haughtily on the imitation-stone floors. "And the adults are having refreshments in the..." This time, at least, he expected Osgood's abrupt departure. "Interesting family."

"Bruce!"

"Tommy!" Bruce extracted himself from Veronica's death grip on his arm, unintentionally knocking her onto the ground in his haste to join his best friend by an arts and crafts table in the far corner of the playroom.

"Your folks dragged you here too?" Tommy asked.

"Yup. Dad said he needed to do some networking. I dunno what that means, but he's never very happy about it. I don't think I'm gonna do any of it when I take things over."

"Don't be a dummy, you need to network if you wanna stay rich." Tommy said with a wizended nod. "At least, that's what my dad says."

"Well if you're so smart, what is networking?" Bruce asked.

"I don't need to explain it to a dummy like you."

"You don't know either." Bruce smirked. Tommy stuck his tongue out at him.

"Bruce! You're supposed to play with me!" Veronica stamped her patent leather covered foot on the ground. "It's my birthday, you have to do what I say!"

"Best friend duties override stupid booger covered first grader birthday snob duties." Tommy said dismissively. He threw an arm around Bruce's shoulder and stuck his tongue out at Veronica.

"I told my Dad not to invite you." Veronica looked positively betrayed. "DADDY!! WHY IS STUPID TOMMY ELLIOT HERE?!?!" She ran from the room shrieking, and Tommy and Bruce started laughing.

"So we're probably gonna be here for at least a couple hours. How do you wanna pass the time?" Tommy asked.

"We could play detective again." Bruce suggested.

"Nah. Nothing to detect in Happyland." Tommy considered. Then something caught his eye. "Hey! That's my stuff! Get away from there you little brat!" He ran off to yet another end of the large playroom, Bruce on his heels.

Tommy was heading towards a duffle bag full of action figures, books and spare clothes that a toddler was rifling through. The toddler ignored Tommy's yells, and obliviously stuck a GI Joe in his mouth, chewing on its head.

"Ew! He's getting spit everywhere. Leggo of my stuff you stupid baby! Hey, I said let go!" Tommy yanked the action figure away from the kid, who stared at him with wide, confused blue eyes, before turning back to the duffle bag. "I said get away!"

"Tommy, calm down. Maybe he's too young to know what you're saying." Bruce suggested.

"He's not! I've got a cousin younger than that, he's just being a jerk!"

The kid picked up one of the books and started looking at the pages, bending some of them and tracking drool on others, but clearly entranced by the bright pictures.

Tommy grabbed the book and pulled, tearing some of the pages in the process. "Get your own toys you little beast!"

The toddler's eyes welled with tears as he looked at the crumbled half-page in his hand. He started crying, but the noises he made were more guttural than a normal child's cry. Several of the other children came over to see what the noises were.

"What's wrong with that kid?"

"He sounds scary...is he okay?"

"I dunno." Tommy poked the boy's forehead. He made a couple more weird noises and hid his face in his chubby hands.

"You're scaring him Tommy, leave him alone." Bruce tugged on Tommy's shirt sleeve.

"I've got an idea. We can play a game with him. Doesn't he sound kinda like a monster?" Tommy asked. He poked the toddler again, eliciting more of the frightened guttural noises.

Meanwhile, in the ballroom the parents were chatting, some honestly enjoying the networking opportunity while temporarily free of their children, others stealing glances at the clock tower outside with fixed smiles on their faces.

Martha Wayne was amongst the latter group. Somehow, she'd gotten stuck talking to Rachel Rathaway while Thomas appealed to Osgood for a Rathaway Publishing house donation of books for one of the charitable organizations he was overseeing. It didn't seem to be going well, as Osgood kept asking about tax cuts versus lost revenue.

Rachel took a sip of ice water and sniffed disdainfully, glancing at the small spot of throw up on her satin dress. "This horrid stuff never stops smelling, I've noticed. Martha, your son's older than mine. When do they stop throwing up?"

"Well Rachel, human beings of any age throw up when they're sick." Martha said carefully.

"Oh. I was afraid of that. Well anyway, your boy is a perfect little gentleman. You're so lucky. My little boy came out horrible." Rachel let out a long suffering sigh, self-absorbed enough to miss Martha's look of shock. "If I could, I'd take back this whole child-rearing experiment. The pregnancy was a nightmare. My little parasite is two years old, and I'm just now fitting into my old dresses again, which is a shame because of course they're all out of style. And then the delivery, don't get me started on that. Four miserable hours of my life I'll never get back. And Hartley's cute enough-we do sometimes get compliments. But there's something...something off about him. The compliments always stop when he makes his noises. How long before they're able to speak properly anyway?"

"Oh, um, well if he's two he should be saying...saying a few words by now. Does he say Mama yet?" Martha was sure she must have sounded constipated, but Rachel once again missed the rudeness in her tone.

"No, nothing at all. Osgood's probably right. He wants to have another, and shoot for a normal baby this time. But I keep telling him I'll only consent if he's going to birth the damn thing himself. Am I right?"

Martha frowned. "Actually, Thomas and I would love to have had another baby, but we had too many difficulties with conception. Bruce has been miracle enough-"

"Ah. That's very sad." Rachel's clipped tones implied otherwise.

"Miss Rachel, Miss Rachel-" The maid ran breathlessly into the room, startling several of the guests. Osgood's face whitened.

"You're supposed to be in the playroom with the children. Do you see any other help in here?" Osgood snapped, attempting to keep his voice low.

"Sorry sir, sorry m'am. It's just, there's been a problem with the children-"

"Then I suggest you do your job and resolve it." Osgood said.

"Problem, what problem?" Martha asked, anxious.

"N-nothing to concern you m'am." The maid looked flustered. She turned back to her employers. "Please m'am, just pop out with me for a second."

"We pay you to keep track of Hartley." Rachel rolled her eyes. "I'm just about done with the boy today. He was insufferable this morning, and then he threw up on me in the car. Whatever it is, you handle it."

"Y-yes m'am." The maid's cheeks were colored with embarrassment. She started making her way back towards the playroom.

"Oh for the love of..." Martha set her glass down on a table and followed after her to see what the matter was.

She walked into the playroom, where about a dozen children were playing in blissful ignorance while a small group were being lectured by a maid and a butler that had been left behind to watch the children. The maid worked for the Vreelands, but she didn't recognize the butler. Martha wondered where Alfred was...he should have finished with the car and made his way inside by now.

Then she saw him talking to Bruce and Tommy Elliot in the corner. Bruce's head was down, while Tommy looked bored.

"Alfred, Bruce, what's going on?" Martha asked.

"Just talking to the boys about bullying." Alfred answered. He spared a glance at Bruce, who looked the picture of repentance. "I do think Master Bruce has learned his lesson."

"I have Alfred. Mom, I'm really sorry."

"It's okay sweetheart, but what happened?" Martha stroked his cheek, a warm smile on his face.

Tommy smirked, and pointed to a table where all of the children's backpacks and diaper bags had been stacked. The Rathaway maid was digging through the pile like mad, looking for her employer's diaper bag while little Hartley gurgled out frightened noises behind her.

His arms were held out stiffly in front of him, like he was afraid of dropping them, and his skin had been colored with magic markers to look like Frankenstein's monster. He was also covered from head to toe in wet toilet paper.

"Bruce! Did you help do that to that little boy?" Martha asked.

He looked at the ground again. "I didn't help, but I didn't stop anyone either. Alfred said that's just as bad."

"He's right. Bruce, you have to help people when they're in trouble. I like to think you know picking on a baby isn't right."

"I know. I'm sorry Mom."

"Just make sure you apologize to Hartley too." Martha said with a frown.

Tommy snorted. "Mrs. Wayne, the baby wouldn't know Bruce was apologizing. We learned our lesson, really. Can't we go back to playing now? We won't play monster anymore, promise."

She sighed. "Alright. But Bruce, I don't ever want to hear about something like this happening again. You have to treat people with respect, even if they're behaving in a way you can't understand. You got it mister?" She ruffled his hair.

"Yes Mom."

"Good." She bent down to give him a hug. "Love you."

"Love you too."

Martha took another look at the crying little boy and then turned to Alfred. "Do you think you could help her clean Hartley up? The poor thing looks in over her head, and I'm pretty sure I packed Bruce an extra sweater they can have, so he doesn't have to wear a shirt covered with wet toilet paper."

"Of course."

"Thanks Alfred." Martha sighed. "Well. Guess I'll go finish chatting it up with the adult monsters in the other room. Lucky me, huh?"

"Good luck."

When Martha rejoined her husband she almost considered excusing herself again; he was still talking to the Rathaways! And not only that, but General Vreeland had joined them. She liked Vreeland well enough, but only in small doses. His idea of a conversation about parenting involved accusing anyone who didn't cave on their child's every whim of negligence or abuse.

Thankfully that wasn't the case at the moment. He was too busy apologizing profusely for what the children had done to little Hartley, at an event he was hosting. Rachel and Osgood were taking pains to both reassure him they weren't offended while pretending they knew what he was apologizing for.

Then the maid carried Hartley over to them, looking flustered and disheveled. Most of her apron and the front of her dress was damp, and her hands were stained green from the magic marker. Hartley looked content though-he'd been given a cookie to much on. His eyes were darted around the room, investigating all of the strange looking people and the odd decor of the children's fairy castle.

He was wearing Bruce's sweater even though it was much too big for him, but that also served to mostly hide his ruined pants. Most of the marker had come off, though there were still some black lines on his face and green patches where his skin wasn't the raw-red of scrubbing.

"M'am, Sir...I was just thinking that where little Hartley's had some excitement, you might...consider...leaving early?" She looked afraid to suggest it. Based on Rachel and Osgood's expression, rightly so.

"May I?" Martha asked, holding out her arms. Taken aback by the unexpected request, the maid didn't initially seem to know what to do, but then she complied and passed Hartley over to Martha. "Hello there sweetheart."

The toddler didn't respond to her greeting, but he did reach for her pearl necklace and wrap his chubby fingers around it.

"Martha, I'm so sorry. He's getting crumbs all over your beautiful dress. Why did you give him that cookie?" Rachel snapped, horrified.

Martha laughed. "Rachel, it's just a dress. And I'd give Bruce a cookie too if he needed to be cheered up as much as this little guy did. Hello Hartley, hello...well isn't he the smart little man?"

"Please, don't mock us Mrs. Wayne." Osgood sniffed. "We're still grappling with his...inadequacies."

"What do you mean?" Martha feigned ignorance. "Oh, Osgood, don't be silly. Just because he's not talking yet...children develop different skills at different times. If he's getting along without words he's not going to be in a rush to start using them. But look, see how he's investigating everything, seeing what's going on? You've got a very smart little guy." She cooed at him again and tickled his tummy. The Rathaways started when he responded with a delighted giggle-a normal child noise. They'd never heard anything like it before.

"If you're concerned there's something wrong with him, I could take a look." Thomas offered. "I am a doctor, after all."

"Oh, we don't want to trouble you." Osgood started. Rachel jabbed him in the ribs, eyes misting over while Martha provoked more childish sounds of glee out of her son by playing with him.

"We'd be delighted to hear your opinion Thomas." She insisted.

"Very well then. Let me just get my bag."

A few minutes later Martha had set Hartley down on a table while the adults ringed him, Thomas poking and prodding with his instruments. Hartley looked in danger of crying again, so Martha backed away from the table and started making silly faces at him from over the heads of the other observers. Hartley clapped and pointed at her with an excited, but oddly guttural noise.

That gave Martha an idea. She went around behind him, crouching low so that Hartley couldn't see her. When she was out of his sight she reached over and snapped her fingers next to his ear.

He didn't react. She tried it again. Nothing.

"For the love of...Rachel, your son isn't developmentally impaired, he's just deaf!"

"Uh...yes, that appears to be the case." Thomas agreed. He started packing up his equipment. "I can refer you to some specialists, if you'd like."

"Is it...treatable?" Rachel asked.

"This isn't my area of expertise, but I don't think so. But now that you're aware of his condition it wouldn't be at all difficult to account for it." Thomas continued. "You know, picking up sign language, possibly coach him towards lip reading-"

"No, now that we know what it is we can get it fixed. Like you said Thomas, this isn't your area of expertise." Osgood shook his hand. "Thank you very much. Come on Rachel, let's get our son home." 'And get him on an operating table' went unsaid but was heavily implied.

Hartley waved at Martha as his parents carried him towards the exit.

"See Osgood, I told you we didn't have to have another one! We can still fix this one!" Rachel crowed.

Martha involuntarily grabbed Thomas' arm and squeezed, hard. "I bet that woman is fertile as elephant dung."

"And just as charming." Thomas agreed. "What can I say honey? The lord works in mysterious ways."