Fragile: Handle with care.

With only twenty-two years behind me, twenty-two years of knowledge, twenty-two years of observance, I've realized something. Today's children? Completely sheltered.

When did they become so fragile? When I was little? We played outside for hours without parental supervision. My brother and I grew up in a very safe neighborhood. Nothing, I mean nothing, happened there. So, it was okay for Justin and I to hop on our bikes and ride down to the park to explore. Now? Parents freak out if they can't see their children. Constantly under supervision. And, while this can be a good thing, it's crippling them.

There are so many things that you can't feed your children, can't let your children play with, can't let your children watch, can't let your children use. I mean, c'mon. It's not going to hurt your child if they eat something with high fructose corn syrup in it and it sure as hell won't kill them if they eat dirt. Heaven forbid they want to play on a swing set that was made before 2000. Don't expose them to TV after seven pm! They might see something they witness in public! Using a lawn mower? Completely out of the question. And don't even think about allowing them to use a non-green cleaning product.

A lot of older people, and some of my generation, complain about how we don't know a hard day's work. Newsflash people! If you thought we were bad, wait until your grandchildren, children, neices, and nephews grow up. They won't know how to actually have a conversation with a real, live person. And that? Way worse than not knowing a hard day's work.

Each generation is different than the next. I firmly believe that my generation was given the chance to play sports and be involved with after school programs because our parents didn't have that opportunity. They wanted to give us what they didn't have. Can you hold a job, maintain your grades, and play sports/be involved with a club? Sure. But how many parents made their children do that? I was one of the few that was involved with clubs, worked, and maintained my grades. My brother? He wasn't asked to work. He played sports. And, to give those who played sports in high school a little credit, it is time consuming. The children of the future? Probably won't be playing sports. They won't even be asked to work. And, hell, they may not even be involved with any clubs. They'll be too concerned with who's on Facebook, where so-and-so just checked in on Four Square, and the latest YouTube phenom.

They won't be allowed to venture off and explore the unknown that is the neighbor's basement. They won't be allowed to ride a mile down the road to their best friend's house. They won't be allowed to go to the beach for a weekend with their girlfriends when they're sixteen without parents/adults. They'll be too worried about getting dirty, grabbing germs from someone's house, and the possible dangers from driving outside the five mile radius their parents have set up for them.

Did I have a rough childhood. No. Hell no. But, compared to the little tots in elementary, middle, and even high school, I was roughin' it. They'd be amazed that my brother and I, only fifteen months apart, stayed at home when we were in the fourth and fifth grades by ourselves. They'd be baffled by the fact that we had to do chores when we got home from school. Empty the dishwasher? Take out the trash? Fold the laundry? Set the table? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!?!?! No, I'm not. We had to "earn our keep." We had to set the table because we actually ate dinner at a table. Weird concept, huh?

I'm not a parent. I don't know what I will be like as a parent. But, if I start talking about the dangers that exist in allowing my children to be children, please call DSS.