I especially love this picture of my oldest son. He rarely smiles for the camera preferring to stare me down with the expression of a cretin. He was not aware the camera was aimed and clicking so we have a recording of his mirth preserved for all time. The second picture shows a more accurate depiction of what we usually see glaring back at us through the camera's eye.
Jason has a sense of humor, it's just hidden inside a complex intellect seeping out when dry sarcasm is required. A few years back he had missed my birthday and a Mothers' Day, well, a phone call happened but I can't get across to my sons that I want a card, something with a little snippet of a poem on it, perhaps a good joke, a funny cartoon, something that was chosen, signed and envelope licked. I want a card.
So on my next birthday I received a postcard from the son being discussed. It was white with black block letters and said simply, YOU NEED A BEER. On the back he scribbled, "I just watched a documentary on TV about leeches," and he proceeds to tell me the process of leech-eating-human-decayed-tissue on unfortunate Portuguese volunteer patients. Oh, and happy birthday, love and the rest. Got my card, now didn't I?
Jason's third grade class was instructed to write an autobiography. So he wrote the assignment and he referred to me, the woman who birthed him, by saying "my mother wishes I would get a sense of humor." So maybe he did listen to me, jeesh, everything backfires.