"Mom, can I please stay over at auntie's house just one more night?" my 11-year-old pleaded.

His hazel eyes were a dull green. The blood vessels bulged, hinting of fatigue.

I knew he needed sleep. Spending the night at auntie's house meant another night of staying up late. He would probably play video games into the wee hours, ride bikes and skateboard with his cousins until dawn, play basketball with some of the neighborhood kids until they got bored and eat whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

Visiting auntie's house is like going to a theme park that never closes. That's why I call her Auntie Disneyland.

So when he begged me to stay just one more night, I was reluctant. I knew that if he stayed over for the second time in a row, I would have to re-orient him to our family's way of life.

That would be a challenge in itself.

It's as if he's been on leave for a few days and now has to return to boot camp.

I looked straight into his drowsy eyes and said, "You can stay at auntie's house under the following conditions: We will pick you up at 9 a.m. sharp. You will return home, do your chores and finish your homework without complaint. Understood?"

A big grin spread over his face.

"Yes!" he shouted, making his fist into a ball. "I promise, Mom."

As I exited Auntie Disneyland's house, the celebration of her son's fifth birthday was in full swing. The street of Kala-wahine was blanketed with adults and children. A horde of keiki was in the inflatable moon jump castle, giggling as they collided into each other. A line of older kids waited their turn to careen down the 33-foot slip- and-slide.

Kupuna and makua sat under a makeshift tent that ran the length of two garages, devouring huli-huli pig, among other delectables.

I remember when I was my son's age. My parents had a party practically every weekend. How could I drag him away from a true Hawaiian experience?

I couldn't.

The next morning, my husband picked up our son. The minute he walked in, I knew he was exhausted. I worried about my decision allowing him to spend the extra night.

"You look tired," I said.

"No, no, I'm not," he grinned. "I went to bed early last night."

Without a second thought, he grabbed his backpack and pulled out his homework.

A couple of hours later, I peeked in on him, and he was fast asleep in my bed, his homework completed.

"Disneyland is always the funnest place to be," my husband said, peeking in on his son. "And Auntie Disneyland is the epicenter of it all."