When I was in high school and home from college, I was the one going out at night. My parents would caution me to be careful and ask where I was going. As I raced out of the house in search of fun, I remember sort of snickering at them, at home, watching TV. And in those days, remember, there were maybe 5 channels! Now, I realize, the tables have turned. I am "home" for the summer, living in my old bedroom, showering in the bathroom I shared with my three brothers, and deja-vu-ing all over again. My kids are going to camp here, one at overnight camp in Wisconsin, and one at day camp close by. Mr. Minivan is holding down the fort--sort of--in L.A., and I am having flashbacks of decades ago. Actually, it is very nice staying with my parents. In the morning I hear Boy #2 get up and then I hear the clink and clank of dishes and silverware. When I come downstairs he is all fed and ready for camp. I tell my mom I'm running out for a bit and come back 4 hours later and Boy #2 is busy and happy. It's sort of like having a live-in staff. It's fabulous. Except for the fact that the staff's social life seems to be booming. They go to plays, out to dinner, to baseball games, golfing, to bridge games, etc. Meanwhile, I'm totally caught up on Entourage and Extreme Makeover Home Edition. They are starting to cramp MY social life. I mean, I actually have to ask them if they will be home to stay with Boy #2 if I want to go out at night. Now I'm the one who waits up to hear their key in the door. And last night when they got home at midnight the second I heard their footsteps I yelled "go to bed" at them down the stairs. My dad asked me if I wanted to go out with them one night next week. I couldn't help it. I had to break it to him gently. "I'd love to, Dad," I said, "but you know my policy on socializing with the help."