Chris was only about a year and a half old. He was learning to speak, and he could say certain words quite clearly. Bruce was glad when he adopted the boy. It's not that he wouldn't have been happy if the child he decided to adopt couldn't speak yet, he just thought it would be easier for him to communicate  to the the child and get to know him and his needs.

The car ride home from the adoption center was uneventful, but it wasn't silent. Chris was babbling at things that passed him outside the window. There were a few coherent words like "bird" and "car" and "store". But most of it was just noise. Bruce carried the boy inside the house and set the playpen Bruce had bought. He was going to make lunch for the two of them to celebrate Chris's homecoming. As he was heating up his own lunch and opening a jar of baby food, he heard a call from the living room.

"Bruce!"

Bruce walked out into the living room. Chris was standing, leaning on the side of the playpen. He grinned up at the man who had brought him home.

"Bruce! Food!"

Bruce smiled, "Yeah, Chris, I'm getting food."

Bruce picked up his little boy and carried him into the kitchen, setting him in a high-chair and placing a bowl of baby food in front of him. Chris immediately dipped his hand in it and brought his hand to his mouth. He giggled.

"Bruce!"

Bruce grinned, "I see you, big guy. Keep eating."

Bruce finished heating up his lunch and sat next to Chris so that they could eat together. They spent the rest of the afternoon playing and watching children's programming on the television. When it was time to put Chris to bed, Bruce noticed that the one-year-old wasn't going to put up a fuss about going to bed. He laid Chris down in the crib and kissed his forehead.

"Goodnight, Chris."

"Bruce." Chris yawned.

Bruce smiled, "How about you call me 'daddy'? Can you say 'daddy'?"

"Daddy."