It’s the season when regular folks say tearful goodbyes as they send their college freshmen off for the first time, an experience filled with the bittersweet mix of emotions as they let their kids venture out on their own.

However, for celebrities, this becomes an opportunity to express their emotions through self-indulgent social media posts, highlighting just how ‘special’ their privileged children are, all while showcasing how ‘heartbroken’, ‘proud’, and, let’s admit, somewhat superior they are as parents.

Lauren Sanchez Bezos, the latest billionaire on the block, took her son to the University of Miami, and shared on Instagram: ‘Dropped off Evan at college today. 18 years of early mornings, late night snacks and family dinners… and there he was creating his own dorm cabinet.’

Filthy rich, surgically augmented celebrities: they’re just like us!

I understand the sentiment as I’m about to send my daughter off for the third time for her junior year, but if her stepfather was worth $240 billion, I’m sure he could easily hire a TaskRabbit for assistance.

Liev Schreiber also joined in the online expressions, writing on Instagram about his son Sasha: ‘I’m starting to feel the emotional tug. Gonna miss my ride or die. Having said that, USC is gaining one of the most profound, kind, courageous, and beautiful souls I have ever known.’

Ewww! That sounds like the diary entry of a 12-year-old tween swooning over a strapping fire fighter.

Then, Sasha’s equally famous mom Naomi Watts posted on Instagram, ‘Already balling!’ with three crying emojis.

I’m starting to think emotional instability is a prerequisite for super stardom.

Get a grip, people!

I know that sending your kid to college brings up a spectrum of feelings – but those are best processed privately as a family, not in the public eye.

I remember flying home with my daughter after orientation the summer she went to college and holding her on the plane as she slept. (She was awfully tired after that weekend. She and her new friends must’ve been up all night, journaling and sharing their dreams!)

I choked up, wishing we had just one more summer, one more year where I could be her hands-on mom, one more moment of her childhood that passed in what felt like a flash.

Do you know what I did? I held her and softly cried.

What I didn’t do was post about it on social media, embarrass her and make her journey into the next phase of life all about me.

Because, let’s be honest, the public boo-hooing is really just a competition to see who can shift the focus from their child’s milestone to themselves – and moaning and posting is the only way to maintain that spotlight.

After all, it’s not really about little Darby’s ginned up academic achievements, it’s about ME!

You see, when celebs are writing about their amazing children, they’re really spitting out all the adjectives they feel naturally apply to them.

Liev Schrieber’s son is deep, kind, brave and beautiful, therefore, by extension, so is he.

And ever since Lori Loughlin and Felicity Huffman went to the hoosegow over the Varsity Blues bribery scandal, a lot of this flexing is to prove they didn’t buy their kid’s admission.

Now, everyone seems to feel the need to boast that their mediocre meat trophies got into whichever four-year of their own accord.

And let’s be honest, this has to be the guilt talking.

Most of these people spend months away from their kids to shoot movies and focus on their careers, so the culpability might be creeping in.

Don’t forget, they get paid to cry on command.

When Jennifer Garner posted herself sobbing at her daughter Violet’s graduation last year with the caption, ‘Tell me you have a graduate without telling me you have a graduate,’ I wanted to race over and thrust an Oscar into her hands.

Can you imagine if celebs were actually honest about their lackluster spawn?

It would never happen, because part of living an enviable life filled with international adoration is being blessed with perfect children who remind all us plebians how truly inadequate we are.

Maybe with all that cash and newly found free time, these A-list parents should invest in some much-needed therapy.

Here’s a newsflash for teary-eyed Tinsel Town: the kids come back. Like, every summer.

Not that seeing my daughter off isn’t a precious moment that requires hyper-documentation, but it’s inevitable.

Now, we drop her off with a cardboard box of Clorox wipes and an Allen wrench, practically kicking her out of the rental minivan as we yell, ‘See you at Thanksgiving!’

They have to fly the coop – and my half-empty nest isn’t half bad.

When I ask my daughter, ‘Have you thought about studying abroad this year?’, it’s because I want to grow an indoor herb garden and leave the blinds up past Christmas.

And when August rolls round, I start eyeing her room, wondering if I could fit a Pilates reformer where her dresser used to be.