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Part of the beginning of the new school year for The Boo is a “Unity” retreat. He and his classmates left today and will not return until Saturday evening.

It is just too quiet in this house tonight.

The dogs are even verklempt. Especially poor Sophie . . . she just hopped up on my bed, put her head down on her paws and stared at me, as if to say, “Just where is he, Mom?”

This is like when I travel on business. The thought of a nice quiet evening in a hotel with room service, a long, luxurious bath, a good book, and no one yelling, “Mom, where is my . . .?” or “Mom, I’m hungry” or “Mom, I need money for . . . ” or “Mom, can I take the car to . . . ?” always sounds much more appealing than the reality. The reality usually consists of a badly decorated hotel room with a too-firm mattress, crummy shampoo that leaves my hair feeling strange, overpriced and overcooked lukewarm dinner from room service, a broken ice machine (always seems to be my luck), and an evening that ends up being far too quiet because it is devoid of the aforementioned “Mom” cries, not to mention Sophie curling up right next to me and hogging my pillow.

The old cliche holds. Kids: Can’t live with ’em, can’t live without ’em.

Is it Saturday night yet?

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