Jackson Judd knew months before he asked his date to prom that his invitation was going to be over-the-top -- literally.

The senior at Mary Institute Country Day School earned his pilot's license when he was 17 and had set sky-high expectations the previous year: He'd taken his girlfriend, Abby Desai, to fly with him last spring and had her read the flight checklist aloud.

Judd had inserted "Will you go to prom with me?" as one of the instructions.

"The promposal has turned into such a big deal," he said. "There's totally a one-upsmanship."

After that first successful run, Judd took note of which promposals his girlfriend admired on Instagram. She seemed to appreciate one in which a boy had spelled out "prom" in lights on his date's front lawn.

He got the idea of spelling out "Prom?" on a field and flying over it with her.

The simple idea required some complex planning.

First, he looked up sizing for plastic sheeting he could use to make the message. Then he figured out how much he would need to create the display by drawing a grid. He bought 600 feet of black plastic sheeting from Home Depot and cut the strips in his basement.

He found a friend who had a family farm near Hermann, Mo., about 75 miles from St. Louis. Judd checked the forecast for two clear days, and drove out to the field to set it up. He held the plastic sheeting in place with firewood from the farm. The four letters and a question mark covered an area about the size of a football field. It would be visible from 4,000 feet in the air.

Desai didn't suspect a thing when Judd asked her to go flying with him two weeks before the big dance. They headed west, and for 15 minutes, Judd flew around trying to figure out exactly where he had laid out the tarp. He finally found the right field, tilted the plane wing down and flew by it for Desai to see.

"I was shocked," Desai said. "I never expected something so huge ... I was amazed he would make that much effort. I was over-the-moon happy."

Mission accomplished, Judd.

"I know I beat my personal best," he said, "but I wouldn't say I'm the king of promposals."

The couple, who have been dating for a year and a half, attended their prom earlier this month, and both reported having a fabulous time.

The first thing Desai's father said when he heard about Judd's promposal was: "Is your marriage proposal going to seem really lame compared to prom?"

The generation that has popularized a new tradition of asking a prom date in a big way -- and, of course, sharing that experience through social media -- may not hear another proposal for at least a decade after.

The median age for a first marriage has risen by six years during the past two generations. Nearly 60 percent of adults ages 18 to 29 were married in 1960. Now, it's 20 percent in that age group. The process of finding that life partner has also evolved for a sizable number of young people.

For millenials, dating, in its traditional sense, hardly exists. Interested singles are more likely to hang out than dress up and go on a dinner date. There are growing doubts in this cohort about monogamy. While fewer teens are sexually active now than in the '80s, the ones who are active are more likely to experience a fluid, hook-up culture.

Yet the vast majority of college students report a desire to get married one day. The Pinterest popularity of anything wedding-related remains strong.

So, if the fantasy still exists but the reality seems unlikely in the near future, why not create a bridge? Many modern prom rituals, from the professional photographer to the designer dress, resemble a wedding day. Costs and expectations keep escalating.

Some may criticize the promposal as a yet another narcissistic display by a generation that constantly needs to broadcast and be reassured that they are special.

But the promposal may also tap into another impulse: It may be a grand, romantic gesture by a generation holding on to a bit of innocence about what it means to be a loved in a commitment-phobic era. Even if there is an element of competition, going to the trouble to plan and execute a sweet surprise for someone is thoughtful and memorable.

It's useful to bear in mind, however, that no one should want the best night of their life to unfold in high school.

Kind of a bummer for the next 60 years if it was.

CAPTION 01: Jackson Judd created a football field-sized "promposal" for girlfriend Abby Desai.

The mom felt as nervous picking up the phone as if she had been transported back to middle school and was calling a hot crush.

Was she overstepping? Would she sound like a freak for asking such questions?

But she called and had the potentially awkward conversation anyway. Her social butterfly tween daughter had been invited to a sleepover, and she barely knew the parents. She wasn't comfortable sending her daughter, but she also didn't relish being the bad guy -- the only parent who says no.

Sleepovers, long seen as a childhood rite of passage, are under renewed scrutiny by parents weighing the risks. Even the smartest and best-raised children make stupid mistakes. It's part of growing up. But the consequences of a small lapse in judgment -- much more likely in a group-think gaggle -- seem much greater than they once were.

This mom wanted to know what kind of rules the other parents would enforce about cellphones and Internet use during the sleepover. What happens if smartphones come out late at night, and the girls start taking selfies? YouTube is littered with questionable videos taken at tween- or teen-aged sleepovers.

The hosting mother said she keeps tabs on what her daughter does, but she couldn't control what the other girls might do.

This isn't the only sensitive topic that can come up in a conversation about a child spending the night away from home. There are the concerns that have always been around: Who else will be in the house? How will siblings, other relatives and friends interact with the guests? Are there guns in the house? Will they be locked away while children are over?

In an era of two-working-parent households, fewer people know their neighbors, and families are more mobile than ever. Odds are good that your child will have a friend whose parents you know superficially, at best.

These kinds of personal questions are difficult to ask, but the etiquette of sleepover permission-granting has changed. It's not rude to ask hosting parents how they would handle certain situations.

We have a pretty high bar for houses where our children are allowed to sleep over. When my 9-year-old son was invited to spend the night for a friend's birthday party, the hosting mom messaged me to see if I had any questions. We've known the family socially for years, and I knew nearly all of the children who would be attending.

Still, I was hesitant. She said she is reluctant about sleepovers, too, and volunteered answers to concerns she would have if she were in my position: There would be no other adults in the house other than her and her husband; they didn't own any guns; they planned to keep watch to make sure no child was being left out or bullied.

Hearing her articulate the same sorts of concerns reassured me.

We can't bubble-wrap our children and protect them from every conceivable risk in the world. But there's the mental calculation we do each time: Is the benefit to my child worth the risk?

There's a contingent of parents who impose an outright ban on all sleepovers, and a laissez-faire crowd who allow almost every request. For those in the middle, we should not be afraid to ask questions, nor should we be offended if we are asked in return.

The mom who made the original phone call to ask about technology use said the conversation prompted her to come up with a rule when she hosts sleepovers. She lets the guests know they need to check their tablets and phones at the door when they arrive, so there are no opportunities for impulsive selfies and texting.

Some parents have decided that declaring their child a thief, a slob, a bully, a failure or a tramp to the world is the best way to cure them of this behavior.

Since medieval times, shame and humiliation have been used to control behavior and inflict punishment. The modern-day public stocks are viral shaming videos posted on Facebook and YouTube, punishments picked up by media outlets and broadcast to millions.

Earlier this month, a fed-up father in Georgia made headlines by moving his teenage daughter's bedroom furniture and belongings onto the driveway, along with a sign stating: "Haley, room moved to driveway. Clean it next time."

Would it not have been as effective to move her messy things to a garage, a backyard or basement? Would that not have gotten her attention, versus attracting media attention?

This latest incident follows a long string of such public punishments we've seen go viral on social media. The YouTube video of the father shooting his daughter's laptop for disrespectful posts she made on Facebook has more than 39 million views and gave him his 15 minutes of virtual fame.

Children have been made to walk around near busy streets or in front of schools wearing cardboard sandwich signs with their "crimes" -- such as twerking at a school dance, bullying, failing school and stealing -- announced to public ridicule.

No matter how frustrated or angry you may be with your child's messy room, bad grades or Facebook posts, shaming them in public teaches them that humiliation should be used as a weapon.

It can be understandable, in a time when traditional lines of authority within families have been upended, for parents to struggle to find ways to re-establish control with children who seem out of control.

Changing social mores about the lines between public and private may make it seem normal to harness the power of technology to make a point to children, and perhaps just as loudly, make a point to the world: I am the parent. I am in charge. I have power over you.

The individual parents in these circumstances tap into a larger nerve than just their own frustration: If it's not acceptable to spank my child anymore, then this is how I can teach them a lesson. And, overwhelmingly, the public reaction is one of support.

Karyl McBride, a clinical psychologist based in Denver and author of "Will I Ever Be Good Enough? Healing the Daughters of Narcissistic Mothers," echoes the sentiments of many professionals.

"What they are modeling for their children is mean and cruel," she said. "Children learn more for what they see us do than anything we teach or preach to them." Children are still developing during their teen years. These are some of the most important times for children's self esteem, she said, and publicly shaming them is not how people raise kind, empathetic, secure children.

Ultimately, the lesson the child learns is to use power to make others comply. The object is to avoid getting caught and suffering consequences rather than understanding why the behavior was hurtful and wrong in its own right.

"If you want children to respect you, you have to respect them," said McBride.

It can be near impossible for an adult to respect a rude, lazy, self-centered child. But you can refuse to tolerate those behaviors while still respecting your child's dignity as a human being.

Two years ago, an 8-year-old third-grader in Swansea, Ill. was forced to stand outside her school, screaming and crying, wearing a sign that read, "I like to steal from others and lie about it."

Her parents made her wear the sign as punishment after she repeatedly stole, according to local reports. The superintendent called the police, who persuaded the girl's father to let her take off the sign and go inside to class.

As that girl's parents know, it is difficult to help a child correct destructive behaviors. Sometimes we need the help of teachers, counselors, clergy and our own village to survive the most trying years.

But we ought to recall Nietzsche's response when he asked what is most humane about us. It is "to spare someone shame," he wrote.

Don't make me a party to shaming your child.