Over the weekend my friend cleaned out her house.  In other words, I gained a whole bunch of new stuff.  In this process, we gained a new computer.  I already have my own laptop, so by default the computer now belongs to the kids.  And the very first thing my daughter wanted to know?  “Can I get a MySpace?”  This is the same 9 year old who insists that she needs a cell phone, is constantly plugged into her iPod, insists that black nail polish is cool, and whose idol is now Hannah Montana and Miley Cyrus (dude, they’re the same people, with different colored hair….).

At 9 years old, I liked whatever my mom told me I liked.  My parents were still the center of my world.  I trusted them.  I wore little girl clothing, thought pink was the most fabulous color in the world, played Barbies with the neighbors, used my imagination to create Indian villages out of moss next to trickling creek water……  The biggest swear word was something a beaver made.  The best music was Crosby, Stills, and Nash, because that was what was always playing in the house.  PBS was still the main kid’s channel (though TV was never on during the day).  I dreamt of horses, danced in my room when it was clean, sang songs in the nearby fields where no one could hear me.  I was young.  I was innocent. 

I was 9.

I know I’m going to sound like an old fogey, but I’m just going to say it.  The youth of today shock me.  If I wasn’t shocked before by the revealing clothing they have for young girls (hello, a child does NOT wear a thong!), MySpace has opened my eyes to the lack of innocence that exists for children.  It’s not just the language, it’s the way it is used.  I don’t even think these kids possess the amount of hormones they are spewing at each other!  See, I originally thought that I should be worried about online predators, old men praying on pretty little girls like my daughter.  But I have realized that the new predator exists in each of these young kids, trying to appear older and upping the standards with each login.  The photos become sexier with each pose, clothing appearing to be just a suggestion, lips are puckered to kiss the air towards the camera.  Rude and derogatory comments are passed back and forth that would have gotten somebody slapped for impropriety a long time ago.  Kids possess hundreds to thousands of friends, accepting anyone’s invitation, then publishing personal information like phone numbers in comments, free for anyone to see and use to commit further stalking. 

I am not against MySpace.  I have one (which, in essence, really should make it uncool to my daughter….).  I have fun with it.  I enjoy creating my page layout, changing the song every few days or so, chatting with friends I had lost touch with over the years.  I’ve met some great people through MySpace, and I have denied “friend requests” from automatic porno sites.  But it will be a long time before my daughter will be equipped with a login and a password to her own MySpace, or even be allowed online, for that matter.  For now, despite her desire to grow up so quickly, I will pretend not to notice when she is singing to herself in her room.  I will look the other way when she lines up her stuffed animals and babies them.  I will feign unawareness when she dances in circles.  But I will enjoy every second of her childhood, and pray that the adult world won’t claim her too soon.

If you want to remind me that I’m too old for MySpace, visit Web Wise Kids. Everyone else, email me at winecountrymom@winecountrymom.com.