I thought watching the "One Direction" special on TV with my daughter was the only thing I was going to enjoy so shamelessly, with no regrets and complete with the "pause this show while I go to the restroom so I don't miss a single moment" devotion.
And then my son came home from work, starving, and fried up some spam.
A little back story: I have successfully not eaten spam for almost 38 years. I can remember my Aunt once asking, aghast, that I'd never had a hot spam sandwich, and I, equally aghast, said absolutely not. I had no desire to open a can of 'meat' and eat it.
I'd been raising my children the same way, but on his spring break camping trip, my son tasted spam for the first time, and he loves it. I would occasionally buy a can for him but I have never been home when he cooked it.
So it's 10:30 at night, I'm full of contentment after watching the latest wonder boy band (they are really talented!) and my son asked me to please try the spam he was cooking. I tried using logic (10:30 is so late to be eating fried, greasy meat) but he just kept offering it.
I grudgingly took one tiny piece, fresh off the griddle, and OMG. I ate a second one too.
I have no regrets on my new found love of British boy band music or canned meat fried to a crisp. Both are that good!