How you make the decision to let your child walk home from school alone

This is a story of a friend of mine. She's able to laugh loudly and holding a huge drill, harness a rose to a crumbly stone wall. Even more amazing, she can re-do her daughter's bedroom and make it groovy, when there wasn't even any paint falling off the walls. And so she called in all her friends, several of them professional decorators to give advice on where to start. The bedroom was pink, with bookshelves that had been handmade with hearts cut into the brackets. The curtains were toile de jouy in pink and green. There was an iron bed and a pink cupboard with little curtains in it. So of course, aged 11, it was just an embarassment. One of the decorators finally suggested that L could start by picking out a fabric for the curtains and then going from there to choose the walls, the new colours for the furniture, and the pictures. All was done. There was a trip to Ikea for the fabric. Then another to an out of town DIY store for some wallpaper. The ex-husband was brought in to repaint furniture. The mum in law was sent off with the fabric to re-do the curtains. The wallpaper went up, the other walls were painted. And I was shown the room. In the place of the old fashioned cast iron bed there was a mezzanine. The fabric was a patchwork of bright fun colours. The cupboards co-ordinated. The shelves, with the hearts, were the only remnant of a distant, childish age. On the wall was a pscyhadelic townscape. Really it was great. A week or two passed. I am on my way to the supermarket where I meet my friend. Turns out that morning she had forgotten to take any notice of the 'Please knock before entering sign' that was pasted up on the door of L's new bedroom. She had just fumbled her way in, sleepy-eyed and maternal to remind L to put something in her satchel. L looks at her, listens , and says 'Could you knock next time'.