Gordon, Gordon, Put Me in Stitches

My 7th grader came home from school yesterday and told a story about someone named Gordy. Apparently, Gordy couldn’t believe how tall my son was. He expected him to be much shorter. Red flag! I have never heard of anyone named Gordy. I only know of Commissioner Gordon. He runs the police department in Gotham City. “Is Mr. Gordy a teacher?” “No,” he said. “I play video games on my Playstation with him.” Alarm! I like to think I keep pretty good tabs on my son. I know who his friends are. I’m kind of the friend police. He will not end up in the Breakfast Club. I have never heard of anyone named Gordy. My heart started racing. “You tell me right now who Gordy is mister!” I like to throw the word “mister” out there to show I mean business.

It turns out Gordy is a 6th grader. (I’m guessing it’s a family name?) It was a relief, but a wake up call for me. I should know better. As a reporter, I covered stories of pedophiles soliciting kids on gaming systems. I need to do a better job monitoring who he plays with online.

It’s scary how technology has made it even easier for complete strangers to communicate with our children. I just read an article about a 13-year-old girl in Texas who stole her parents car to meet up with the 12-year-old boyfriend she met online. The two became acquainted while playing “Call of Duty: Black Ops.” This was never a problem with Space Invaders.

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