Daughter: (smiling as she flexes)
"Mom, are you sure we’re not too much for this city?"
Mother: (grinning while casually cracking the ledge with her elbow)
"Oh sweetie… too much is what they need. Look—" (she points down to the street)
"See that? That’s Superman."
Daughter: (peering over the edge)
"Huh. He’s… smaller than I expected."
Mother: (with mock pity)
"Not so super now, is he?" (laughs, then puffs out her chest)
"I mean, look at this pec shelf!" (she flexes hard, her pectorals bulging up and lifting her bust high like a living pedestal)
"You could serve brunch on this thing."
Daughter: (giggling)
"Can we invite Wonder Woman? She could take notes."
Mother:
"Ugh, Diana. She's strong, sure… but honey, her curves are like training mode."
(She does a slow bounce of her chest, causing her top to strain dramatically.)
"Tell me: do these look like a ‘warrior princess’—or a goddess who could crush tanks between her cleavage?"
Daughter: (laughing and posing beside her)
"I think we need new titles. ‘Superwoman Prime’ and ‘Ultra-Girl’?"
Mother:
"Or just… better."