On Christmas Eve, my children all swore they would never be able to sleep. We roasted marshmallows, put out cookies and milk, and put out the stainless mixing bowl for the reindeer (carrots, oats, and sugar cubes). The kids were out within 15 minutes of hitting their beds.
Then Lou woke up at midnight and Bebe stumbled out about 20 minutes later and I had to stay up so that they could go back to sleep and their stocking could make it to the foot of their beds. I was almost asleep when I heard frantic whispering followed by gigantic children thumping out of bed (and the inevitable squeaks when Charlotte got out of her bed). There was racing down the hallway and then back, with cries of, "It's one o'clock!" This woke Archie, who I could tell wanted to go to the door and yell for the kids to go to sleep. I was laughing. The hubub subsided and I fell asleep.
Then I woke up to more running sounds and it was light out. The girls came in our room, "Santa came! We got our stockings and the cookies are eaten! Get up, get up, get up!" So we got up and unwrapped presents and everyone was amazed at what a great job Santa had done, which always tickles me. I will be sad when that ends.
Then Archie went back to bed, the girls played, and I stretched out on the couch and watched Elf. At about noon, our friend Scott came over and we shifted into cooking mode. And drinking mode. Several hours later, we were all tucking into perfectly cooked roast beast and Yorkshire pudding. I fell into a meat and wine coma and Cha and I had a lovely nap.
We took a walk once it was dark to look at Christmas lights, which was really fun. Usually it's been raining, so we just drive around. Walking was nice, especially since we'd all eaten so much. Back home, pumpkin pie and watching the SpongeBob Christmas special and then bed for little girls.
It was just about a perfect day. There was no screaming and lots of fun. Too bad it only comes once a year.