Happy Independence Day?
Celebrating freedom requires a lot of supplies.
All-terrain wheelchair? Check. Freshly topped-off battery for same? Check. Spare battery in case the first one goes flat? Check. Small manual wheelchair packed in case the spare battery fails? Check.
Large picnic cooler with fried chicken, potato salad, cole slaw, assorted crudite? Check. Smaller picnic cooler with drinks? Check. Bag of ice? Check.
Baby bag.
Make that two bags, and more diapers than you think you'll need, plus extra food and two changes of clothing. And a hat to keep Mary from getting sunburned. Baby seat.
A couple of batarangs stashed here and there, plus a jumpline, and one of Dick's costumes tucked away, because nothing says "supervillain attack" like "quiet family outing."
And as always, the unseen bodyguards handpicked by Bruce Wayne Batman their overly protective mentor to protect them from mundane attacks.
It's only a 30-minute drive from the 'Haven to Gotham, though Dick Grayson habitually makes it in less. Not today, with US 61 moving so slowly. The New Jersey state troopers are out in force today, making sure everyone knows that they're there to stop speeders, drunk drivers, and good ol' fashioned stupidity. It must be working, because the Graysons only pass half a dozen pulled-over vehicles on their way to the Dark Deco city.
Finally they reach Robinson Park, the handicapped placard ensuring them parking that is only a block away from where they plan on meeting Jim Gordon. Mary seems to be catching the excitement, as she babbles happily to her parents, kicking her feet in protest at being confined to the car seat for so long. "Definitely your daughter," Babs tells her husband, getting his grin and a smart remark in reply. "Let me have her in the sling, and I'll go scout ahead for Dad?"
It shouldn't take long. The advantage of being a redhead and a wheelie is that other people have no trouble finding you.
All-terrain wheelchair? Check. Freshly topped-off battery for same? Check. Spare battery in case the first one goes flat? Check. Small manual wheelchair packed in case the spare battery fails? Check.
Large picnic cooler with fried chicken, potato salad, cole slaw, assorted crudite? Check. Smaller picnic cooler with drinks? Check. Bag of ice? Check.
Baby bag.
Make that two bags, and more diapers than you think you'll need, plus extra food and two changes of clothing. And a hat to keep Mary from getting sunburned. Baby seat.
A couple of batarangs stashed here and there, plus a jumpline, and one of Dick's costumes tucked away, because nothing says "supervillain attack" like "quiet family outing."
And as always, the unseen bodyguards handpicked by Bruce Wayne Batman their overly protective mentor to protect them from mundane attacks.
It's only a 30-minute drive from the 'Haven to Gotham, though Dick Grayson habitually makes it in less. Not today, with US 61 moving so slowly. The New Jersey state troopers are out in force today, making sure everyone knows that they're there to stop speeders, drunk drivers, and good ol' fashioned stupidity. It must be working, because the Graysons only pass half a dozen pulled-over vehicles on their way to the Dark Deco city.
Finally they reach Robinson Park, the handicapped placard ensuring them parking that is only a block away from where they plan on meeting Jim Gordon. Mary seems to be catching the excitement, as she babbles happily to her parents, kicking her feet in protest at being confined to the car seat for so long. "Definitely your daughter," Babs tells her husband, getting his grin and a smart remark in reply. "Let me have her in the sling, and I'll go scout ahead for Dad?"
It shouldn't take long. The advantage of being a redhead and a wheelie is that other people have no trouble finding you.