August 15, 2030h

	Babs glanced in Spud's direction.  "Trying to refrigerate the 
whole house?" she asked in mild tones.
	"I'm looking for dill," he answered from behind the open 
refrigerator door.
	"Dill?"
	He tiptoed to peek out at her over the door.  "Alfred always puts 
dill in this kind of salad."
	"Oh.  Will dried dill do?  I used the last of the fresh in the 
soup the other night, and we let Dick do the grocery shopping this 
week."
	Spud closed the refrigerator door.  "So much for that idea," he 
grumbled.
	"I'm sure the salad will be fine, Spud."
	"Yeah, it just won't be as good as Alfred's."
	"Trust me, Dick will never notice," she laughed.
	"I'll notice," Spud pouted.
	"Poor Spud," Babs teased.  "A gourmet in a house full of 
philistines."
	Spud wrinkled his nose at her as he returned to shredding lettuce.  
"What's a phil - philsta-"
	"Philistine.  Someone who doesn't appreciate the finer things in 
life."
	"Like fresh dill?"
	"Like fresh dill," Babs agreed, wheeling over to dump the tomatoes 
from her cutting board into the salad.
	"Hey!" Spud protested.  "I wasn't ready - philoss -!"
	"Philistine.  And be a gourmet later, Potato Boy," Babs said 
firmly.  "Your father's h-"
	She trailed off as the door locks began clicking and Spud shot 
away toward the front door, her insult to his salad forgotten.  She 
sighed and began tossing the vegetables together as she heard Spud cry, 
"Dick!" 
	He let out a sudden holler as Dick made roaring noises, and when 
she turned to the door, Dick had Spud rolled up over his shoulder.  Spud 
kicked and squealed, his face flushed red with laughter.  "Babs, HELP!" 
he gasped.
	Babs chuckled.  "You're on your own, Mr. Gourmet," she decreed, 
watching as Dick made a big show of lifting Spud over his head before 
resettling Spud on his feet.
	" Nothing like wrangling potatoes for building up an appetite," 
Dick announced, crossing to his wife.  "What's for supper?" 
	"Ick, Grayson," Babs complained as he leaned down to kiss her.  
"You stink."
	"Hey, you try running around in this heat in a bullet proof vest 
and polyester pants," he retorted.  "Do I see sandwich makings?"
	"And salad - too hot to cook.  How was your day?"
	"Long.  And you guys?"
	"Well, we had Spud's swimming lessons, and I managed to get some 
laps in, and -"
	"I made Babs drop her escrima stick!" Spud announced, his hand 
grabbing Dick's as if to get his father's attention.
	"Oh, did you now?" Dick answered, ruffling Spud's hair fondly.  
"Cass been teaching you tricks again?"
	"He's just getting good at it, right Spud?" Babs interjected, 
smiling at her son.
	"Yep!  Maybe -" he hesitated.  "Maybe you and me-"
	"You and I," Dick corrected.
	"You and *I* could - after supper -"
	Dick's smile didn't waver, but Babs could see something flare in 
his eyes as he shot a glance at her.  "Sorry, Spud.  I've got to head 
out early tonight.  In fact, I better go shower now so I don't STINK so 
much-"
	Spud took a deep breath as if to protest, then caught Babs warning 
look.  "Okay," he said instead.  "I'm going to try to save my salad."
	Dick laughed.  "Babs' been wrecking your creations again?" 
	"Out, Grayson," Babs ordered sternly, turning to her son as Dick 
headed off toward the bathroom.  "C'mon, Spud.  Let's fix your salad.  
What else do you need me to -?  Spud?"
	The boy sat perched by the salad bowl again, but his face wore a 
disappointed scowl.  "Why does he DO that, Babs?"
	Not now, Babs thought to herself.  "It's been a busy few weeks, 
Spud.  Wait until things calm down a bit -"
	"I *have* been waiting!  He always says no!"
	Babs sighed.  This argument had come closer to the surface since 
the adoption had been finalized, and she suspected that Spud had 
believed that Dick would let him sidekick once he was "really" in the 
family.  But Dick could not hear how much Spud sounded like a young Dick 
Grayson, anguished over being shut out of Batman's crusade.  Nor would 
he listen to Babs' insistence that if any boy needed a direction for his 
still pent up rage, it was Spud.
	But tonight was not the night.  Not with Dick so close to nailing 
Blockbuster and pushing himself too hard to close the case.  She reached 
consolingly for Spud.
	He shook her off and began fiercely turning the lettuce and 
tomatoes in 
the bowl.
	"Spud," she said gently, hiding her hurt at his rejection.
	"I could do it, you know.  Robin even showed me how to use the 
jump lines 
and everything."
	"Robin what?" 
	"He rigged some in the cave so I could try it. It was cool."
	"Spud, maybe this weekend-"
	"This needs cucumbers and avocado," he announced, ending the 
conversation.  
	Babs hesitated, then got the requested vegetables and began 
slicing them.  
"Should we grow the avocado pit?" she asked.
	Spud gave her a look, his earlier anger giving way to curiosity.  
"You can do that?"
	"Sure.  Just need some toothpicks and a glass."
	The salad was once again abandoned as Spud watched Babs insert 
toothpicks into the pit and balance it on a glass of water.  He hopped 
up onto the counter to set the glass in the window sill over the kitchen 
sink.  "Are you sure this will grow?" he asked.
	"The ones she did for me always did," Dick answered from the 
doorway, smiling warmly at his family.
	Babs looked up at him, returning his smile and trying not to 
notice how much more tired he looked now that he was freshly scrubbed 
and lounging in shorts and a t-shirt.  "And then Alfred got tired of 
watching those poor avocado saplings die in the Gotham winters," Babs 
remembered.
	"We ready to eat?" Dick asked, picking a piece of cucumber from 
the cutting board and nibbling on it.
	"That's for the salad!" Spud objected.
	"Spud, I think we'll just have to make it a plain old tossed salad 
tonight.  Dick, has it cooled down enough to eat on the patio?"
	"Good question.  Should we go check it out, Spud?"
	Spud bounced to Dick's side.  "You got it, Dick."