Vi usually couldn’t stand parties, especially the stuck-up, out of touch gatherings you Pilties must have.

But a birthday party? For her little girl? She’d be at every single one.

“Think she’s tired,” she mutters in your ear, noticing the heaviness in your daughter’s eyelids. The other parents have started to go home too, leaving a mess of balloons and confetti in your living room.

“C’mon,” she groans, hauling her daughter into her arms.