My mom thinks she's too young to be away from family.

She is only six, after all.

I don't know how old I was when I first stayed overnight at a friend's house, although I'm not sure chronology had much bearing on the decision way back when.

Geography was a more likely determining factor.

No one wants to drive too far in the middle of the night to retrieve a crying child. Likewise, no one wants to impose a lengthy period of waiting while another parent has to sooth your homesick sprog.

But here we stand on the bank of this new territory as Ittybit tiptoes in.

It's not a big deal. It's just a few hours.

But there's no denying this waking desire for independence is also a trickle in the river of emotion that will one day separate us.

OK. That's a little dramatic, mom.

I could have picked some age as a benchmark that she would have to reach before she could ride this particular ride.

But unlike an amusement park regulation, this measure would be arbitrary.

She's ready now.

She is brave and willing to explore now.

So we agree. She can go and spend the night with her friend.

Excitement may keep her awake longer, but when she finally closes her eyes, she'll likely sleep through until morning.

If I'm wrong, it's only a few minutes of lost sleep and a few miles in the car.