My son is doing his part to build up the local economy, but it’s ruining communication within our family.

Our merchants know that kids today have lots of expendable income so they target a large part of their merchandizing and advertising at them.  That’s certainly understandable, but the things the kids buy today are just weird.  Where we used to buy an occasional baseball bat or ugly, flat tennis shoes, kids today buy exotic hobby equipment and $150 name-brand sneakers with bells, whistles, and lights on them.  But it’s the Cyber-pets and Magic the Gathering cards that have gotten the best of my parenting skills.

Today, a conversation with your own kid turns into a session that makes you think your kid is speaking a foreign language. Have you had this conversation with your kid yet?

Him:  “I’ve got to get up at 7:30 in the morning because I am giga-sitting for Thomas’ cyber-pet.”
Me:  “What?”
Him:  “Did I tell you that I traded Adam a Thunder Mare for a Black Lotus.”
Me.:  “What?”
Him:  “Yeah, see, Dad.  The Black Lotus takes zero to cast, tap and sacrifice to add three manna of any color to your manna pool?”
Me: “What?”

Although my one-word part of the conversation was pretty easy, it was one of those vivid reminders that the generation gap is no myth.

I guess my father worried about me purchasing cigarettes, beer, or pornography, but at least he knew what it was.  I need a translator to talk to my own son.

I didn’t even know he had bought his new “pet” until he charged into the room last week saying, “G-2 is doing great.  He has a 99 in health, a 99 in happiness, a 99 in food, and a 99 in discipline.”
“What?”
“G-2.  That’s what I named my new cyber-pet, Dad.”
“What?”

I had no idea what he was talking about until his mom explained about his new Giga-pet.  It’s a tiny watch-sized electronic gizmo with a LCD display of a kitty and a few confusing buttons on it.  But just like a real kitty, it requires attention – food, discipline, and play.  My son plays with it by making it chase technological butterflies and feeding it fish bones.  He proudly brags, “My cat is three years old and weighs 12 pounds.”  (Hey!  He paid good money for this thing!)

But I drew the line at baby-sitting for his Giga-pet!
“You want me to what?”
“Just listen to it, Dad, and tell me if it beeps.”
“No way!  I’m not tending some electronic bits and bytes and pretending that it is a cat!”
(Not to worry; his Mother, faithful parent that she is, cyber-cat sat for him.)

But the cyber-cat is easier to understand than his other purchase – Magic the Gathering cards.  I like to think of myself as a relatively smart guy, but when my kid and his friends start swapping cards, I just shake my head and leave the room.

“I’ll trade you a Thunder Mare for a Mox Ruby.”
“How about a Revered Unicorn?  If it leaves play, its controller gains life equal to Revered Unicorn’s last paid cumulative upkeep.”
 “Have you got a  Doomsday? Pay half your life, rounded up.  Put your graveyard on top of your library, then remove all but five cards of your library from the game.  Put the rest on top of your library in any order.”

“What?”

Parenting just ain’t what it used to be.  I can talk about baseball, marbles, washers, and even chess.  But this stuff?

I’m afraid my age is showing.