I don't know how old I was when I would finally spend the night away from home. As many times as I tried, I had to go home. My friends parents were always sweet about it but I'm sure they dreaded those Friday nights that we planned for me to stay at their houses. I tried and really thought I would stay. Bedtime would come and I wouldn't last long after that. Guess it was a good thing we lived in a small town.
This mystery was solved in my adult years. Through discussions I found out that upon my doctor's advise my parents sent me to The Crippled Children's Home in Jackson. My one memory about that place was sitting on the end of the bed crying.
I was only there for a short period. On my 3rd birthday my family came and took me to my grandparents for my birthday. When it was time to take me back to the home, the family voted and decided I was going home with them. My dad called the doctor to tell him and the doctor said it was kidnapping. My family didn't care. Dad called the sheriff of the county we lived in who told him "just get across the county line and you'll be safe." The sheriff was at the county line waiting for us. We of course changed doctors. My new doctor took the braces off my legs saying that the braces were keeping me from using my muscles.
Obviously my short-lived stay at this home was such a traumatizing experience that it caused me to think I wouldn't be able to go home the next morning if I actually spent the night with my friends.