Does Anyone Remember Good Old Rover?

I'd like to throw my children's Tamagotchis out the window.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with what I am talking about -- they are these little computerised toys, that first emerged on the market about ten years ago, and are now experiencing a resurgence in popularity. Essentially, it is is a virtual pet. You start off with an egg that hatches and then nurture it through three other stages of life. The goal is to keep it happy and healthy for as long as possible by feeding it, praising it, playing with it and cleaning up its poop. Through connecting wirelessly with other Tamagotchi owners, you can if you're lucky, raise a second generation Tamagotchi, which apparently is the desired goal..

In any event, my daughter was given a Tamagotchi as a birthday present by one of her friends. She was at first indifferent to it, but then met someone at day camp this summer who had one and explained the joys of owning one. Upon her return from camp that particular afternoon, she unearthed hers from the toybox where she'd carelessly discarded it and the two have been inseparable ever since.

So as a parent, I should probably be behind this kind of a toy because in a way, I guess it's like that old Home Ec assignment of carrying around an egg and treating it like a baby. Ostensibly that assignment is to teach teens how difficult and time consuming having a baby can be, hence making them more responsible sexually, and also appreciative towards their parents for all they've endured. Not sure if that experiment works, but I'm pretty sure that Tamagotchis won't accomplish that goal.

In my daughter however, it has elicited some real highs and lows. The high point was when her egg hatched to become a girl (after an endless string of boy pets). It was quite cute watching her croon with delight, then take off like a shot yelling to her brother "It's a girl! I had a girl!". I felt like I was watching some maternity ward drama.

The lowest point came when her girl died a week later. She cried inconsolably and intensely for about fifteen minutes straight. Now her other male pets had all died, without incident or emotion; she promptly reset the toy and waited for the next egg to hatch. Quite clearly, she'd projected something of herself onto this girl pet of hers and it broke her heart when it didn't make it. After holding her while she cried herself out, I then had to watch her go through the period of guilt and wondering "Did I not feed it enough? Did I feed it too much? What did I do wrong?" It was a terrible sight to behold. And the weird thing is that you actually get swept up into it all. I held her hand and told her that sometimes accidents happen and you don't always understand the logic behind it. My first instinct was to tell her that she could have another girl at a later time, but I held back because I thought how if one of my kids were to die, the last thing I'd want to hear is that I could have another. I told her just about everything under the son except that her pet had gone to a better place. And really, how bizarre and surreal a tableau is that. I mean, the thing is an image borne of a computer chip, for crying out loud!

My eldest son is now lobbying for a Tamagotchi of his own and my daughter is asking if she can have another one as well, so she can increase her chances of having a second generation pet. Moments like these make me think our society is going to hell in a handbasket. Are we really learning how to be properly attached to something if our interactions are limited in such an impersonal and electronic way?