Yixing takes a deep breath, and – for the seventeenth time this hour – reassures himself he can do this. “What do you think your friends will like?” He asks his just-turned eight year old, who is currently in the midst of some kind of solo skipping game.

She stares up at him, big eyes suspiciously innocent. He does not trust his children; that much is a given. If they look innocent, it generally means they have something even more terrible than usual up their sleeves.

He shivers.

“Chocolate,” she beams, her smile so adorable that for a moment, Yixing forgets she is a tiny little mastermind, “and Pringles. Oh, and jelly snakes!” She nods furiously for a second, and then – before he can stop her – runs towards the large Mother's Day display at the front of the store, and darts back with a hugely over-priced box of chocolates. “Please?” She adds, just for that bit of extra mental torture.

“Um,” he dithers, really wanting to say no, but knowing he can't. It is her birthday. And her birthday sleepover.

Oh god. What are they getting themselves into?

It's not as if sleepovers haven't happened before. There have been many of them, when one or other of the children's friends have stayed over a little longer than normal and simply stayed because it was easier. There have even been sleepovers with multiple friends. And – if Jongdae is right – then Shang has been having secret sleepovers with his girlfriends, but Yixing tries not to think about that. It throws up too many traumatic questions.

But this is different. This is a planned sleepover, with several prepubescent girls taking up residence in their living room for the night, and giggling. He has nothing against the idea of a sleepover, per se, it's just that ones with girls tend to be this mysterious ritual he knows nothing about.

And Kyungmi hasn't helped. She cackled when they pleaded with her to host it at her house and refused, a look of barely repressed glee on her face. She then proceeded to tell them horror stories of sleepovers in her youth, and snorted rather ungracefully when Jongdae put his head in his hands.

“They're basically a way to stay at the top of the social tree,” she'd said, smirking as Yixing bit his lip. “You don't really invite friends – you invite people who've invited you, so you look more popular and therefore like you're included in everything.”

Yixing had gulped. “So what will they be...doing?” He has horrible visions of violent pillow fights getting out of hand, and having to tell several irate parents that he'd let their little darlings hurt one another.

Kyungmi had given a slow, deliberate shrug. “Probably watch horror movies they shouldn't be watching, talk about and what it is and about their friends. Oh, and play that weird Bloody Mary game.”

Yixing knows all about Bloody Mary. He knows what it is specifically, because Jongseok tried playing it once before he went to bed, and scared himself so much that they had to stay in his bedroom for seven hours before he finally went to sleep.

Suffice it to say that Yixing is not looking forward to this ordeal. Especially not the inevitable damage to his bank account.

***

“Now,” Yixing starts, arms folded as he regards his family (minus Sunhwa, who is happily rolling in blankets in the living room instead of actually laying them out like he told her to). “I want everyone on their best behaviour tonight, and I mean everyone.”

Jongdae nods solemnly, to make it seem like this is a united front, rather than another exhibition of Yixing's extreme panic about having to deal with so many stranger's children. Jongseok and Shang merely look bored.

“It's your sister's birthday party today, and I want it to go well. So that means no experiments,” – he directs the words (with air quotes) at Jongseok, who looks down at the floor guiltily – “and everyone wearing clothes,” – this is directed at both Jongdae and Shang, the latter's expression unchanging and the former's cheeks turning a brilliant scarlet. He shakes his head. “I'm not explaining male ia to anymore children, do you hear?”

Shang shrugs loftily. “It was an accident,” he says, completely unruffled, “how was I to know there was a kid outside my door?”

Yixing gives him a withering look. “I thought it was understood that we didn't walk around completely in this house.”

“You and dad seem to spend an awful lot of time in your bedroom,” Jongseok points out, oblivious to the daggers Jongdae is aiming at him.

“That's different!” Yixing splutters, “that is in private, where no one can see – ”

“Doesn't mean nobody can hear,” Shang mutters, more than a little bitterly. Yixing turns red and splutters some more.

“Look,” he says, once he is able to speak coherently, “I just want us to seem like a normal, well-adjusted family.”

Shang snorts, patting his father's arm patronisingly. “I think we're long past that one, bà.”

Stuff has been hectic at home lately, and I've had barely any time for anything.