Jaejoong is humming to himself as he walks through the house. He has just put the stew on and it will simmer happily on the stove for the next three hours while he amuses himself with his children. He hasn't seen them much this week because of his responsibilities as a PHD student, being a Teaching Assistant for one of the third year undergraduate psych courses and he misses them a lot. They still use the creche near the university and he sees them every moment he can spare, but it really isn't enough.
He walks into the large playroom, eavesdropping on his three year old twin sons who are having a rather serious conversation. A conversation that just about make him apoplectic.
"Su! Hurry! Just kick him."
"Are you sure it's okay?"
"Mama called him a ball yesterday, so he must be a ball."
"I really don't think Mama meant an actual ball, Chunnie."
"But look! He's wearing black and white and looks just like the ball Daddy bought for you. And you heard JJ earlier! She said look at the cute ball! so he must be a ball."
"But won't Mama be mad if we kick him?"
"He'll just bounce."
"I really don't think we should kick him."
Before Jaejoong can say a word, stupefied into silence, Yoochun draws a foot back and kicks his younger brother squarely in the bottom.
Changmin, the youngest, immediately starts squawking, thoroughly displeased at being kicked. He rolls over and curls up, head between his hands, and his poor little sore butt in the air as he starts to whimper.
"See? I told you he would roll."
"You said, bounce! He didn't bounce!"
Junsu crouches over to check on the sniffling toddler, unaware that their Mama is about to unleash hell on their little heads.
"JUNG YOOCHUN, WHAT ARE YOU DOING!"
Three heads jerk up. Changmin, upon seeing Jaejoong, immediately stands and waddles over, wailing loudly, more noise than anything else since he now has a captive audience and he knows his brother is in trouble.
Jaejoong crouches down, opening his arms for the crying boy, squeezing him tight before standing, lifting him as well, grunting at the exertion. Alright, so the toddler is a little chubby. He rearranges his youngest son comfortably in his arms before pinning his twins with a glare.
"Both of you stay here till the long hand of the clock hits six. That's fifteen minutes. Think about your behaviour."
"You can explain later. I love you."
"I know you are, sweetheart. But I still want you to think about it. When you're done, both of you come down and tell me how you're going to make it up to Minnie. And then after dinner, you can tell Daddy what happened."
"Not daddy!" Identical, horrified, twin voices chirp in utter dismay.
"Yes, daddy. Now scoot."
Without any further protest, their heads hanging, the twins shuffle to their little yellow chairs, sitting quietly in it and staring out the window at the sight of their older sisters playing on the swing. They are unaware of their mama shaking their head at them, as he pulls the door shut quietly behind him.
"I told you he wasn't a real ball."
AN: Did I pass drabble school? :O