I have really matured in the past year.

Last summer, I sent my 13-year-old and his buddy cross-country on a plane all by themselves. We worked diligently with the other parents to find a flight that didn't require changing planes. We paid the extra fees for flying as unaccompanied minors. We got them official picture IDs from the police department. We had lists of phone numbers stashed in their bags. Phone calls flew back and forth between all the parents and both boys when they had a layover in Austin. My sister took time off from work to be at the gate in plenty of time to pick them up in San Francisco. (Then she had a flat tire on the Bay Bridge, but that's another story.)

This summer, my son is flying alone. He has to change planes twice. I figure he can pass for 15 so we didn't have to pay the exorbitant unaccompanied minor fair. Since the rest of us will have already left, I'm not entirely sure how he's going to get to the airport in Fort Lauderdale. In fact, I'm not entirely sure how he's getting back from the out-of-town baseball tournament he'll be playing in. (We do have a great network of friends and neighbors to help.) When we pick him up on the other end, we have to time it just right so our seven-hour car ride across South Dakota ends just when his plane touches down in Rapid City. Piece of cake.

What could possibly go wrong?

Ok...as I typed those words. I shuddered. Is it getting hot in here? Why am I breaking out in a sweat?

But here's the deal. When I was 15, I flew to Hong Kong by myself. Alec has a good head on his shoulders. He's observant. He's responsible. He's...mature.

Right?

What do you think?

PHOTO: Associated Press/Frank Augstein