Thumbs up to letting go

I'm learning to let go. My son's going to a new sitter after school this week, and he has to cross a busy street to get there from his bus stop. He may be seven, but he's still my boy. I'm filled with self-doubt, thinking that I've done a poor job of helping him become "street-smart." Yesterday, I met Noah at the bus stop and walked to the sitter's with him. He was so happy-go-lucky, running and skipping, and I reminded him that there are several driveways and parking lots along the way, and that cars could come from many different directions, not just the street itself. We stopped at the intersection, with his little hand firmly in my grip, and crossed the road when it was safe to do so. He was so excited about going to his new sitter's, since his brother and sister go there, and he anticipated having so much fun. That was yesterday. Today, unbeknownst to my son, I nipped out of work for a few minutes around the time the bus was expected to arrive, and parked my car just out of sight of the bus stop. Sure enough, my little boy hops off the bus, followed by several teenagers (the bus goes to the high school before dropping off the elementary school kids). With his Pokemon backpack strapped on, and his Wall-E lunch box swinging in one hand, he takes off in a run. Then, just as he's about to cross the first driveway, he comes to an abrupt halt,...looks to make sure nothing's coming,...and then zooms off again. I'm all set to cheer! Then he reaches the intersection, stops, puts out his hand, just like children are told to do, and waits for a car to stop and for the driver to clearly indicate he's letting my son cross. Noah hurries across the roadway, and then races down the road toward his sitter's. "Hooray," I feel like yelling, "he did it!!" And he did it well. Perhaps he's more street-smart than I give him credit for. Mothers are like that sometimes. I decided my covert op was now successfully concluded, so it was safe to reveal my presence. I drove down the street a bit and caught up with Noah. As I rolled down the window, he casually asked, "Mom, what are you doing here?"
"Just thought I'd see how you did with crossing that street, and you did a good job," I say, with two thumbs up, to show my approval. "See you later son."
"See you later, Mom. I love you."
Yes, Son, I'd better let you go. But, thank God, not all at once.