There's No Escape for the Young

My daughter has been ruined.  My words mean nothing.

I noticed she's been glued to her laptop for the last several weeks....

I'm fully aware that her tech acumen readily outstrips mine and she regularly makes me look like a buffoon when it comes to computer issues.  "Dad, you need to reboot, go into msconfig and edit your startup items...." she'd say as I stared blankly at an unusual error message on my screen.  I'd look up...reminding myself that she was still just ten years old.  This is to be expected since when I was her age, my exposure to technology was limited to ownership of a digital watch that only told the time and a sandwich sized calculator that could only add and subtract. The world was different back then.

Honestly, I had this great fear that she was perhaps hacking into the Bank of America computers....That perhaps any day now a pair of men in pressed suits, sunglasses and earpieces would knock on my door and ask to speak to my daughter for a few minutes about some internet irregularity that was traced back to our house.... I warily slunk over and asked..."So....whatcha doing?"

"I'm on Animal Jam...." she replied smugly.

I had not the foggiest idea of what it was...so I sat down and watched her gaudily clad unicorn-like fantasy creature galloping around a tropical island, magical pet frog in tow.

"This is my den...." she added as she proceeded to trot through what appeared to be a huge virtual multi-level expanse of a mansion.  It had amenities I could only dream of...A waterfall in the living room, an indoor pool, a fully stocked bar, 70 inch LCD TV...there was a banquet table complete with a royal feast, some huge glowing one-of-a-kind icon or shrine or something that she had surrounded with multicolored swiveling barstools....In another place there were what appeared to be hundreds of virtual stuffed animals...no less than 30 alligators of different colors all neatly lined up...panda's, horses, armadillos.  The walls were covered with tchochkes...flags, mirrors, sconces, paintings....everything.

I was horrified.  "You're a HOARDER?...You're Hoarding in cyberspace???!!!" I snorted while cupping my head in my hands.  My failure as a parent was complete.  I felt like sobbing...All those words about materialism and she does this???  If she couldn't have everything she wanted in the real world, I guess there was always cyberspace where she didn't have to worry about whether or not daddy would say yes...

As I sat there in shock, she showed me all of her acquisitions, large and small.  "I want to be on Epic Dens, but I need more stuff" she casually mentioned... There's a virtual stuff acquisition contest????!!!  Animal Jam, my ass!  This should be called "Keeping up with the Virtual Joneses."  or "Cyber Materialist Spoiled Princess.."  My mind was out of control.   Still horrified, I queried..."Why do you need 30 alligators?"

"I won them. Besides dad, it's just the internet."  She rolled her eyes in normal prepubescent female fashion.

I didn't know what to say.  She had a point, but the mere thought of an online game pitting kids against each other to see who acquire the most crap makes me shiver.  How can that not somehow translate into real life behavior?  I found myself asking the usual questions.... "What are you going to do with 30 alligators?"  "Why not 50, or 1,000 alligators?  When does it stop?"  My daughter wrinkled her face in disgust.  "Dad!  It's just a game!!!"  I laughed.  She was right.  But she lined up the alligators so nicely...like soldiers.  It was cute....but still horrifying.  At least she didn't approach me each morning asking for my credit card number so she could buy more virtual-currency with which she would gamble with the hopes of winning more alligators.  That would have put me into orbit.

As I'm typing, she has won more cyber-gem currency and is asking me what she should do with it?  She wants a full sized castle.  I agree, but note that maybe it would be better to save up, take a trip somewhere and move into a smaller castle that's easier to maintain.  Then I remembered...you don't have to maintain a virtual castle.  It just shows up when she clicks on the website.

In cyberspace, she can have all the alligators she wants and won't have to worry about where to store them.  I certainly won't be tripping over them in the living room.   I should be thankful.  I think.

If storage and practicality isn't an issue on the internet, should I worry?