Forgotten Gems : "Letitia Lerner, Superman's Babysitter !" from Elseworlds 80-page giant Vol.1 #1 (1999). Script (with some help from Liz Glass), art, colors & lettering by cartoonist Kyle Baker. A story later reprinted in Bizarro Comics HC (2001), Bizarro Comics SC (2003), DC Comics Presents:Elseworlds 80-Page Giant #1 (2012), Elseworlds:Justice League Vol. 2 TPB (2017) and Bizarro Comics:The Deluxe Edition HC (2021).
Fun Fact #1 : "All of the existing copies of the issue were withdrawn and pulped after Paul Levitz became concerned about a scene in the story "Letitia Lerner, Superman's Babysitter". The scene in question involved a young baby (Superman) trapped in a microwave. The story was later reprinted in Bizarro Comics. It also won Kyle Baker two Eisner Awards for Best Short Story and Best/Writer Artist."
Fun Fact #2 : "The story from the 2005 Pixar short "Jack-Jack Attack" was heavily inspired by "Letitia Lerner, Superman's Babysitter"."
Girlll I have an idea and it’s so tea u don’t understand-
Okay so you should write a dad!bucky fic where him and readers kid has like powers (idk what powers like super strength most likely? U decide!!) but they stem from the super serum which obviously the two of them weren’t aware was possible and so they’ve got a toddler running around that can pick up cars and I just think it would be cute and hilarious😭
i can so see in this scenario both bucky and reader being mystified but then reader goes "well he's you're kid"
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Bucky’s first clue that something was off came when the couch moved.
Not shifted, not creaked under the weight of a wiggly toddler. No—this was the full-bodied scoot of a piece of furniture being relocated across the living room floor by sheer willpower and baby determination.
“Uh… doll?” Bucky blinked, frozen in the doorway with a coffee mug halfway to his lips. “Did you move the couch?”
You looked up from your laptop on the kitchen counter, squinting. “What? No—why would I move the—oh my god.”
Because there, in the middle of the rug, stood your two-year-old daughter, wearing mismatched socks and the most serious little expression Bucky had ever seen. She had her chubby hands planted firmly on the armrest of the couch—and she was pushing it.
It wasn’t sliding because of the hardwood. No. It was because she was lifting it.
“Jamie Barnes, put that down!” you squeaked.
The couch hit the floor with a loud thud, and Jamie clapped her hands, delighted. “See! I strong!”
Bucky’s jaw dropped. His mug tilted. Coffee sloshed dangerously close to the rim.
You turned toward him slowly, eyes wide. “Did you—did you just see that?”
“Yeah,” Bucky said faintly. “I think our kid just… benched the sofa.”
Five minutes later, the couch incident was confirmed not to be a fluke.
Bucky had crouched down, doing that calm, low-voice thing he always used when Jamie got a little too hyped. “Sweetheart,” he said carefully, “can you show Daddy again what you did?”
Jamie beamed. “Show Daddy!”
Before you could stop her, she toddled over to the end table and—oh god—lifted it like it weighed nothing.
The lamp teetered. You dove. Bucky lunged. Jamie giggled, clapping her hands as if she hadn’t just displayed terrifying, world-breaking strength in her pastel pajamas.
“Buck,” you said weakly, lamp still cradled to your chest. “I think she’s got the serum.”
The rest of the morning was a blur of half-shocked, half-hysterical parenting.
Jamie’s “game time” included bending spoons (“Bendy!”), pulling the fridge door off its hinges (“Oopsie”), and tossing her favorite stuffed bear onto the roof.
Every new discovery sent Bucky pacing the kitchen muttering about “how is this even possible?” and “there’s no damn way the serum’s hereditary, right?” before stopping to watch Jamie in awe as she ripped a juice box open with one hand.
You, meanwhile, alternated between frantically Googling ‘can super soldier DNA be inherited?’ and trying to keep your mutant toddler from turning your living room into a CrossFit gym.
Finally, Bucky called Sam.
“Don’t laugh,” was the first thing he said, voice tight. “I’m serious, Wilson.”
There was a pause on the other end. Then: “Why would I laugh? What happened now? She find your metal arm stash again?”
“No,” Bucky hissed. “She lifted the car.”
“Come again?”
“She lifted my goddamn car, Sam!”
You heard Sam start cackling through the phone even from across the room. “Oh, this is rich. Lil’ Barnes is out here outlifting her old man, huh? You better start training, grandpa.”
Bucky scowled. “I am not that old.”
“Coulda fooled me.”
“Bye, Sam.” Click.
You were still half-hiding your smile when he turned around. “Don’t you dare.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re thinking it.”
You bit your lip. “...That your toddler can bench-press a car?”
He groaned, raking a hand through his hair. “I just wanted a normal morning, doll. Maybe make pancakes. Not call Stark and tell him my baby’s the world’s smallest Avenger.”
But it didn’t take long for Bucky’s panic to melt into wonder.
Later, when Jamie ran to him—barefoot and bright-eyed, her curls a chaotic halo—and begged, “Again, Daddy! Pick up high!” he found himself kneeling beside her in the backyard, hands guiding her gently toward a safer target: the plastic sandbox lid.
“Okay, tiny powerhouse,” he said, smiling despite himself. “Show me what you got.”
Jamie grunted with effort, cheeks puffing out, little hands squeezing the edge of the lid—and then, to both of your disbelief, up it went. Her giggle rang out like sunlight through leaves.
“Look, Mommy!” she squealed. “Strong like Daddy!”
Bucky’s chest softened so fast it almost hurt. He scooped her up before she could test her powers on anything else and spun her around, laughing.
“You sure are,” he murmured, kissing her temple. “Strongest girl in the world.”
She patted his cheek like it was the most obvious thing ever. “You strong too, Daddy.”
He froze for a second, throat catching. The words were simple—just toddler chatter—but something about hearing them from this tiny miracle, half him, half you, hit him right in the sternum.
You found him that night sitting on the edge of her bed long after she’d fallen asleep, the dim nightlight painting soft shadows across the metal of his arm. Jamie’s tiny fingers were curled around his pinky, her stuffed bear tucked safely at her side (retrieved from the roof via one slightly exasperated Falcon).
He didn’t look up when you came in, just whispered, “She’s gonna have a hell of a time in kindergarten.”
You smiled, leaning against the doorframe. “I think she’ll be fine. Strong, remember?”
“Too strong,” he said softly. “You think she knows how dangerous she could be?”
“She’s two, Buck.”
“I know.” He sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “Guess I just… never thought I’d see any part of that serum again. Not like this. Not—” His voice cracked a little. “Not in something so good.”
You crossed the room, brushing a hand over his shoulder. “She’s good because you are. You made sure she got the best parts of you, Buck. Not the soldier part. The heart part.”
He glanced up at you, a crooked smile breaking through. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” You kissed his hair. “Besides, if she ever starts throwing buses, you’ll know where she got it from.”
That earned a quiet laugh. “I’m serious, doll. We gotta get her a mini punching bag or something. Maybe a toddler-sized shield.”
“Or we could start with baby-proofing the furniture again.”
“Good idea,” he said, chuckling softly. “And maybe a new couch.”
The next morning, you woke to the sound of giggles and the faint metallic clank of… something.
You groaned, sitting up. “Buck?”
He appeared in the doorway, bleary-eyed but grinning, Jamie perched proudly on his shoulders holding his vibranium arm—detached.
“She wanted to ‘help Daddy fix it,’” he explained sheepishly. “Apparently, my kid’s strong enough to pop the socket on her own.”
You blinked. “She—what?”
Jamie waved the arm triumphantly. “Look, Mommy! I fix Daddy!”
You stared for a long moment before dropping your face into your hands. “We’re doomed.”
Bucky just laughed, crossing the room to press a kiss to your hair. “Nah,” he said softly, as Jamie hugged his neck. “We’re lucky.”
And maybe he was right. Because even with the chaos, the coffee spills, and the occasional superpowered toddler lifting furniture for fun, you wouldn’t trade this little, impossible family for anything.
Not when your small but mighty girl was smiling like the world itself bowed to her strength—and her daddy was right there beside her, smiling too.
