Did I suggest that my son should commute to college because I thought it would be best for him, or because I don't want to move yet another futon into another dorm room?

Recently Terry accompanied our youngest child, Jack, to his orientation session at Cleveland State University. I've been to a couple of these orientations, and I've always found them to be at least somewhat fun and exciting for both parents and the freshmen-to-be.

As Jack gets ready to go back to the classroom after a two-year absence, he texted us a few weeks ago asking whether he should consider living on CSU's campus in Downtown Cleveland, rather than commute five days a week.

We've had three other kids live in dorms and/or off-campus housing near Cleveland State, so it certainly wasn't an unreasonable request.

Terry and I both, however, counseled Jack that, for him, it's probably best to commute for at least a year and get used to being in college before diving into the on-campus experience.

There's also the matter of student loan debt, which would rise considerably for him if he chose to live in a dorm (what with the cost of housing, food, etc.)

Jack wisely agreed with us, but then I reflected on the true motivation for the advice I had given.

On one hand, yes, I do think this is the best approach for Jack. I really do.

On the other hand, I have helped four of our children move into dorm rooms and apartments, none of which ever seemed to be on the ground floor but involved endlessly waiting for a single elevator that five dozen other students and their parents were trying to use.

It's a tiring process that involves lugging heavy bins and boxes of clothes, bedding and other dorm room accoutrements.

And I'll admit: While I strength train every week, it was one thing doing all of that in my 30s and even 40s. It's a somewhat different thing to do it in my mid-50s.

Oh, I can do it. I'll manage. It's not so much the actual moving as it is the prolonged recovery from moving that will inevitably follow.

Because, you see, that's what I notice about being this particular age: I can still do almost everything I've ever done, but if it's at all strenuous, my body (which used to bounce back in hours) will let me know about it for a solid day or two afterward.

I'll move your couch up the stairs, sure. I'm just desperately hoping you won't ask me to move the love seat, too.

In the end, I'm confident that what I told Jack came from the right place.

But if he decides to stay on-campus in future years, I'm requesting that a case of ibuprofen be kept close by at all times.