The idea of dozens of little kids spending their morning hand-making Jack birthday cards makes something clench tight in my chest. It's just the cutest thing, really. Particularly because I know Jack will keep every single one, tuck them all carefully in a box in his closet to revisit at a later time. Whenever the feeling strikes.

My grin widens at his cake comment, cheeks warming just a bit.

"Well, I only made a pie, not a cake," I point out, cutting off another bite of food for myself. "So, in that respect, they got me beat. Did they make you blow out candles, too?"