We’re still on spring break.

Me, Greg, and the boys. And it’s been a ‘trip,’ to say the least. We weren’t exactly expecting cold weather at the beach, but that’s another story, another day. We’ve been watching what we spend, but last night at the hotel, I got that ‘heck with it’ feeling and decided we needed some dessert by room service.

I went for the bread pudding and my 7-year-old chocoholic locked his eyes on a slab of cake the size of California that was featured on the menu. We ordered it to room 1187, and sat back to await our sugary treats.

About five minutes later, guilt invaded my thoughts. After all, it was 10:30 pm, and we should be in bed. My youngest was, having fallen asleep on his daddy’s shoulder in the elevator. Greg was refolding the clothes in his suitcase to satisfy his need to be organized, and didn’t care one way or the other.

I looked at Griffin and said, ‘I can’t believe we ordered dessert this late at night.’ He responded by saying, ‘Mommmmmm. It’s spring break.’ In other words, live a little.

And we did. Our treats soon arrived, and we sat in the dark on the bed, so his brother could sleep, and feasted on a killer bread pudding and what we later learned was a $14.00 piece of 7-layer chocolate cake.

His chocolate-toothed grin said it all.

And in true Griffin fashion, I heard him say, “This is the best day of my life.”