My wife Dottie and I were positively giddy.
Our first vacation sans kids (no offense, Diane and Mark) since 1998. So we booked, rather late in the game, a six-day stay at a resort in the Bahamas operated by a certain company named after casual, summertime footwear.
The promise: Plenty of peace, pampering and sunshine in a couples-only environment devoid of sippy cups, high chairs and pre-pubescent meltdowns.