John sighed, as he felt chubby and sticky fingers, tap his face. He opened one eye and squinted at the bright light, that assaulted it and then opened the other. He took one lookk at the twitching owner of those fingers, and schooled his features to make it look angry. But the expression on those huge hazel eyes, along with a wide dimpled grin, hands sticky with choclate and curly hair dusted in dough, elicited a snicker out of the older man.
"Cmon Daddy! Da cake is weady! Dee let me put the candles. I had to put umm…lots!"
John allowed himelf to dragged off by his three year old Sam, into the kitchen that wafted with the aroma of burnt chocolate, where Dean, having fashioned a chef's hat out of a newspaper, his hands covered in mitts, carefully bringing a burnt chocolate cake onto the table, which was littered with flour an icing.
That was the best birthday that John had ever had.