Dropping the second kid off at college is whole different experience than the first time around.

It’s not just knowing that there aren’t really 857 dorm “essentials” that I have to have, it’s the fact that I already know that I can get in that car and drive away and they really are going to be OK.

I keep finding reasons why this time isn’t as difficult as it was the first time. G is less than half the distance away. I can make the round trip to get him in less time than it takes me just to get to A.

Both kids are going to their dream schools, even though A’s was the longest shot ever taken, and G’s school accepted him just days after he finished his application. I have no doubt at all that each of them is exactly where they belong.

Both kids are completely sure that they’re majoring in the right field, and A has already declared and is halfway toward completing his degree in exactly what he planned on doing.

While I am about 99.9% sure that G will remain committed to environmental engineering, I am also aware that Penn State is, at its heart, an agricultural school, and I do worry about G getting sidetracked with something random, like a major in poultry science.

Believe me, now more than ever, I know our world needs ag scientists, and with things like avian flu going around, it’s an extremely relevant field. I just know how delightful G would find it to say he’s majoring in “chicken.”

That’s my main worry with G: too many options. G has always been the most curious kid on the planet, and just like his father, he soaks up knowledge like a sponge and wants to improve on everything. While I can see him emerging with multiple majors, I can also see him extending his stay by a year or five.

My kids’ mental health has always been a concern to me, more so since Steve’s death.

Knowing that A was heading into an ultracompetitive environment, especially after having been the big fish in the small pond, I was worried about his world being rocked. While it hasn’t always been smooth sailing, he has managed to navigate the countercurrents fairly well, and finally, after two years, truly seems to be settling in and enjoying himself.

With G, well, maybe I worry a little bit more about the mental health of those around him. I know more so than anyone how crazy he can make a person. Just getting him packed has been a constant battle of wits. “Five shirts and five pairs of pants. That’s all I’m taking,” he retorted when I asked him if he’d started packing yet. “So, you’re going to do laundry more than once a week, and what are you going to wear when the five sets are in the wash?” I asked. “I’ll double up and do the laundry while I’m in the shower,” was the response. I stopped myself from asking if he meant he was going to streak between the laundry room and the shower, or if he planned to take his shower while wearing clothing.

I figured that I’m going to let him learn the hard way that it doesn’t work like that, but I also find myself stuffing at least two weeks’ worth of clothing in a bag for him. I’m pulling clothes from the top of the laundry basket that he never seems to empty, so hopefully they fit him.

I put his childhood Spiderman blanket on the “keep at home” pile, only to find it moved to the “pack” pile. “Mom, it’s the Andrew Garfield Spiderman, it’s a classic,” was the explanation. Sure, OK. We’ll both pretend that you’re not sneaking a small bit of comfort into the bag.

I’m mildly panicking that G’s entire pile takes up less than half of the back of the SUV. A’s pile requires all the seats to be folded down, and for him to hold a few things on his lap. He’s prepared for anything, and somehow, I still had to mail him boxes of things he absolutely needed but forgot. I don’t think G’s forgetting anything, I just think he plans to live a simpler life.

Throughout the whole process of getting them packed up and moved out, I’m continually reminded of the futility of arguing with myself when I come out of their mouths and delighted when I see the thoughtful creativity and passion for their pursuits that belonged to their father appear.

Somehow, despite everything the world has thrown at them, and the different paths they’ve landed on, they’re both ready and excited to take on the world.

They make it easier to do one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, which is let them go.

Liz Pinkey’s column appears on Saturdays in the Times News