I love you. Good night.

Last week my son and I flew to his grandparents in Kelowna.

Alex is four and loves flying almost as much as he loves Grandma and Grandpa.

The whole deal took a couple of hours and, thank to UBC Okanagan's deal with North South Travel, less than a couple hundred dollars.

I got home, did some homework and went to a three hour Investigative Journalism class.

I couldn't wait for my wife to get home.

When she did, we decided to enjoy our new-found freedom with a spontaneous decision--a nice dinner out.

Two hours and five courses later, we were back home to an empty house.

Don't get me wrong, I love my son, but the lack of responsibility and complete sense of freedom brought back memories of those heady days as DINKs.

It was 9 p.m.

My wife and I looked at each other.

She spoke first: "Remember what we used to do before we had Alex?" she asked with a gleam in her eyes.

We raced to the bedroom as fast as we could and dove into bed.

She was asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow and I followed suit a few minutes later.