This picture

Says it all for me. Makes me smile, makes postponing Thanksgiving worth it, makes missing his actual birthday ok. He wasn't here on his birthday, no. But when I said, I made you a birthday cake, he said " I can't remember that last time someone did that". When I said I don't know you enough to know what kind of cake you liked, and you seemed like a red velvet type to me, he said "thats the only kind I eat, the kind my grandmother always made me". WhenI look at this picture I see that it doesn't matter to him that it was an ugly pitiful little cake that didn't rise like it was supposed to, that my writing sucked on or that his hot wheels motorcycle was held up with a toothpick. I see that he has that same look Keenan had when he looked at his cake in July. That "This is freaking awesome that I got a birthday cake" look. That it was appreciated and loved, even though it was late, and skimpy and flat and ugly. I see that I made him smile a genuine smile, no matter what day it was. And that makes it ok with me...