I was never a coffee drinker. In fact, I have been chastised by my mom for not having a coffee pot in my house for when she comes over to hang out. Somewhere along the line, the evil coffee gods drew me in and I now start salivating like Pavlov’s dog when I see that green Starbucks sign and feel compelled to spend over $4 on a decaf caramel mocha. It’s so wrong, but tastes so good. Yum. There might be just the slightest, teeny, tiny bit of guilt associated with my habit, but I keep telling myself that when Mom is happy, everyone is happy (whatever works). On the way to pick up the kids from school yesterday, I was magnetically drawn out of my usual route and toward the coffee shop…strange how that happened. Not wanting to be late to school, I quickly ordered…picturing my sweet, hot drink in my hands on the freezing spring day. Milling around near the register waiting for my coffee, the barista asked if there was anything else I needed. Impulsively, I grabbed three chocolate covered graham crackers and threw down some cash. Even if there was part of me that was trying to negate my guilt for indulging myself, I was now more excited than ever to meet my kids with chocolate in hand. Waiting in the school pick-up line, I watched as they came out the door one-by-one, faces dragging while carrying their 20lb backpacks. The moment they got in the car, their moods lightened and smiles brightened…just from my little sweet treat. After a few seconds, all that remained were some crumbs and three adorable chocolate mustaches. Guilt? What guilt?