Blessedly, your mum had taken the kids for the night. It had been an insane day of presents, food and screams. They couldn’t wait to open presents, so they drug you and Zayn out of bed at 7 a.m, their impatient hands tugging on your arms and legs to get you to move. Finally, the three of them gave up and wiggled their way between your bodies. The youngest, a baby girl, pressed sloppy kisses to your cheeks until you cracked an eyelid. “Mommy’s up!” She screeched, tugging you harder. That was all they needed. Blindly, you and Zayn stumbled into the living room where they were shaking boxes. “Coffee,” he muttered, and made his way to the kitchen to put on a pot. It felt like he hadn’t slept at all, but his kids were so excited and how could he refuse them anything? They made fast work of the gifts beneath the tree, more paper and boxes covering the floor then the actual carpet. When your mom showed up to take them to her house for more presents and more sugar, you had gladly let her take them. You and Zayn finally had a chance to relax together and do your own presents, there wasn’t much time with the kids around. “This is what I’m talking about,” he had his arm around you on the couch, a glass of wine in his hand. The tree was lit, the fire was going and you had lit some candles. “Can you believe how much stuff they got today?” You laughed. Zayn shook his head and laughed himself. “They can’t want for anything else.” You and Zayn did your own present exchange. You got him new art supplies, seeing as he burned through them constantly drawing your kids. For you, however, were two plane tickets with no certain destination. “I figure we could go on a second honey moon,” he winked, knowing your first son was made from that trip. “More kids then?” You laughed, kissing his pink lips. “More kids,” as crazy as your life was, neither of you would have it any other way.
