My 7-year-old daughter has locked herself in her bedroom and won’t come out until she gets a Webkinz (Webkin?).
You think I’m kidding? Actually, I am. But I can see this happening very soon. This is the kind of power the Webkin wields. I am both fascinated and terrified of this strange new world.
It all started prior to her recent birthday, when my wife and I floated some suggestions for birthday presents.
"How about a nice educational board game, honey?"
"No. Webkinzs. Koala and Panda."
"What the heck are you talking about?"
She gladly educated her clueless parents. Webkinz are cute furry animals you can hold, but they also "live" in an online world where you care for them. I have no idea where she learned this. I wasn’t even sure my daughter knew what a computer was, never mind how to live in an online world.
Of course, Webkinz are hard to find. They’re sold at specialty toy stores and are rarely in stock. Prices are skyrocketing on eBay. I used to be all pleased with myself that my kids were not into fad toys or video games and I didn’t have to chase down the last remaining Wii or Elmo. The Webkinz makers are laughing themselves silly at parents like me.
Webkinz are really evil emissaries from a nameless multi-national conglomerate bent on stealing your money. Here’s how it works: Your daughter enters the ID number found on her Webkinz animal on the Webkinz Web site. That immediately activates an artificial intelligence chip inside the animal and your child begins to receive mind control messages every time she logs on.

Soon, your ATM passwords, account numbers, mother’s maiden name, which drawer the racy vacation videotape is hidden in, etc.. are speeding their way to the aforementioned multi-national conglomerate.
I suppose it could be worse. She could have wanted at Bratz doll.