Okay, hear me out…. Christmas with the McCoys
You and Hank are both sleeping peacefully, then there are suddenly 13 children all pouncing on you – the older kids have even grabbed the baby. They’re all in their Christmas-themed pajamas, screeching that it’s Christmas morning and you guys need to get up immediately. You both comply, letting the children grab your arms and yank you up out of bed. The two of you share a quick kiss, before following them downstairs to the living room.
Presents would be piled so high around the tree that you can only see the top half of it, on account of the fact that there are so many kids. They all immediately book it to the presents. The clumsy one trips and takes down 3 of their siblings, and they all go crashing into the tree. You just smile and tell them to be sure to straighten it all up. Then, you sit on the couch next to Hank, cuddled into his side with the (LAST) baby in your lap, watching all your children open their presents with yells of joy and bright smiles.
Hank made you swear to never get him any presents, because you’ve already given him 13 of the most beautiful presents he could ever receive. But you always help the kids make their presents for him. (He’s gotten: a wonky sweater with 13 different colors, 13 hand-decorated coffee mugs, etc.) This year, the oldest kids were finally old enough to supervise the present making, so you were both surprised with 13 individually decorated ornaments (the one “from the baby” had their footprints on it in paint).
After you’re (both) done crying over how lovely their presents are, Hank whispers something to the nearest kid, and they go over to the tree and remove the final present from the very back. You eye him suspiciously, but he only smiles in response. The kid returns with a large box, covered haphazardly with wrapping paper (you weren’t sure if one of the children or Hank had wrapped it), and they placed it next to you. One of the older kids took the baby from you, and you begin to open the box.
You see are a wine bottle, a reservation card to your favorite restaurant, and five makeshift babysitting coupons from the oldest kids. You laughed and thank them, kissing their foreheads, then Hank informs you that there’s more. Beneath a layer of red and green tissue paper, you find a brand new camera with loads of extra film. You abruptly recalled that you had made a comment to Hank about wanting a new camera, to capture everything in your kids’ lives. You let out an “awww!” before pulling him into a kiss. (The kids collectively hollered “ew,” as they always did.) Again, Hank tells you that you’re not finished yet. After removing more tissue paper, you find a black velvet box. You flip open the lid to reveal a silver chain, with a nickel-sized diamond pendant.
With your mouth forming an O, you stare up at Hank, wide-eyed. He just smiles and presses a kiss to your nose. “Merry Christmas, honey.” Once again, a chorus of “ew”s fill your ears as you pull Hank into a kiss, then a tight hug.
The children were wrangled into their Christmas Day clothes, and everyone went to the mansion for Christmas dinner. After returning home, the kids play with their presents for a few hours, before growing tired and heading to bed. You and Hank aren’t far behind them, changing into your pajamas and crawling into bed together.
There are a few moments of serenity, laying next to each other and enjoying the increasingly rare silence, then Hank moves so he’s hovering over you. The moonlight streaming into the room allows you to see the small smile on his lips, just before he leans down and kisses you, slowly and passionately. You can scarcely breathe by the time Hank pulls away, his smirk still present.
“You’re still not finished, sweetheart. You haven’t gotten your final present.”