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They seem innocuous enough, if schizophrenic--sometimes the children write childishly ("I am so xcited for Dunkin' D's!!! This seems to be a boy my girl kind of knows who is indulging in a disgusting fad. My baby has always been a private person, and not loquacious. One afternoon I see her at the far corner of the yard, swinging on the swing set. Back and forth, back and forth, my baby swings and swings.

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But he offered to install a function on her computer that would tell me what Websites she had been visiting. " She is still smiling, though, so I know that she will forgive me.

That seemed like a good idea, and I got the function but I've never used it. In the days that follow, M and his penis are reduced to a funny anecdote in our family, included in the category of penis humor that my girls and their friends have developed over the years (one enduring penis song, the product of a long car ride in Italy: "Wanahini wanahini, Hello, is that your peenee? ") I keep trying to keep what M did down at fad status: just funnin', a latter-day version of goldfish-swallowing or cramming all of your friends into a phone booth.

I thought I was buying her a computer, I didn't know I was buying her a 24-hour party.

If a telemarketer had called me and said, "Hello, how are you today, we're selling features for your computer that will enable your child to be in touch at all times with every teenager in New York City-- in every developed nation, in fact--all of whom can contact her at any time.

I keep picturing Facebook/IM/You Tube as a huge sci-fi monster whose tendrils keep wriggling through the cracks under the front door that I have locked and bolted and shoved dressers in front of. All of these things involved nudity and exhibitionism and flaunting your privates, didn't they?

Even if you have your child's email password, they can just get a Gmail account, or seven, for all the mail they don't want you to see. What's the difference between that and sending a picture of your penis over the Internet? Those other fads were all about being with other people, they were convivial group romps. But just as grieving has its stages (Denial, Anger, etc.), I now enter a new stage of Reacting to Seeing a Penis Picture in your Daughter's Email. I can't believe how many days it has taken me to get truly concerned about this.

I'm sure they're good idea, but I'm sorry, I just don't want to know what they are.

"All the studies show that kids who have all of the information well in advance of having sex--and a lot of them start when they're fifteen--will make better choices," the nurse said to me. I have a crazy parental urge to say to him, Don't you kids listen when the grown-ups tell you not to give strangers any information? You'd probably tag along after a man who tells you he has a hurt puppy in his car!

I hardly ever see her email Inbox except very fleetingly, as I pass through the little nook in the hallway where we have moved her computer from her bedroom.

Here's how I know about the penis: I sit down at my daughter's computer, my barely-a-teenager daughter's computer, one recent afternoon while mine is in the shop, and here on my daughter's computer screen is her email Inbox.

Or has some online catalog found her and is going to charge her for something she didn't order? It's an amateur close-up, and you can see it's been taken in a bathroom--you can see floor tiles, and a what looks like a used towel on the floor, and a partial view of two large-cupped bras hanging from hooks on the back of a closed door. " in their friends' yearbooks instead of "Luv ya, babe! " They have so much Sex Education that they each brought home three condoms right before summer vacation this year.

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