Here in Spain children get their presents on January 6th which jolly well may be a good tradition but it has its drawbacks. Classes usually begin the day after. This year Spanish children have two whole days instead of one to break their toys / drop their iPhones down the toilet / complain that Juanito has got a better present than they have etc. etc. etc..
The obvious advantage of having an English father and a Spanish mother is that my kids get two opportunities to break the presents and / or complain. Luckily now they do neither - these days it's me who breaks the prezzies, but who could ever complain about the presents that our children give us? When children realise that Father Christmas / the Three Kings do not exist, they start to buy or make and give their parents presents. Such things are to be treasured for what they represent - filial love and loyalty.
Last year I was given a Kindle by my three. As a bibliophile and reading addict, they could not have thought of a better present. It is my constant companion on train rides, flights etc.
With children, it definitely is the thought that counts - even if they give you a diamond-encrusted Rolex. I once had a rather bitter, twisted workmate who thought that his children owed him everything. After all, he had given them the greatest gift of all - life, hadn't he?. Sadly for him, he never did realise that, emotionally, children give far more than they receive. The fleeting seconds of orgasmic pleasure are nothing compared with the lifetime of love and satisfaction that children, whatever their age, are capable of giving their parents. My three, like yours, are no exception.