I sent my kids away today. To sleep away camp.  Parental guidance ended when they stepped on the bus that would take them and the children of friends, acquaintances and strangers six hours north.  For a week.  No phones or iPods. No modern instruments of filial security.  Just some chaperones and the grace of God. They are eleven and thirteen.  Together that adds up to 24.  Even if that number could be imputed to their maturity, it would still be dubious.

Don't be afraid.  Welcome the uncertainty. Make friends. Have fun.  All the expected platitudes from a positive parent.  Masking of course the countervailing, long developed wisdom: be wary, limit your risks, avoid strangers, don't do anything dangerous.   Is it any wonder camp is stressful - for parents?