Once upon a time, long, long ago, little boys and little girls used to do the unthinkable. They spent time ... outside.

Crazy, I know.

Now sit back, relax, and let me take you back to the glory days.

We impatiently awaited the final bell’s ring, signifying the moment of release from our desk-shaped confines out into the sunlight and fresh air. Summertime was finally here again.

Getting home from school, we’d toss our backpacks onto the living room floor, strip off our uniforms for the next three months, and within minutes you could find us at the top of the nearest tree, or splashing around in the local creek.

We’d spend hours scavenging barefoot through backyards and gardens and neighboring alleyways, imagining that we were spies, pirates, kings, and queens. With swords made of branches and imaginary armor, we were taller than the tallest of giants, sneakier than the sneakiest of mice. Our imaginations made anything possible.

We’d scooter to the old neighborhood convenience store where we spent every cent of our weekly allowances on Shockers, Airheads, and 99-cent Arizona Iced Teas, pooling our money and sharing the loot on the sidewalk in between our houses.

And when Dad came knocking on the neighbors' front door or ringing on the home phone, we didn’t go down without a fight. The days were too short to contain all that our imaginations could draw up, but that couldn’t stop the sun from setting on our fun. And so we went reluctantly back home, and climbed into bed with aching feet, tanned skin, and heavy eyelids, already dreaming up the adventures to be had when the sun rose again.

When the days grew shorter, and the air grew colder, we reluctantly clothed our young bodies in shoes and sweatshirts. We armed ourselves with flashlights and nerf guns, to protect the neighborhood and catch the bad guys, all in time for dinner.

Labor Day weekend came and went, and soon it was time to slide our calloused feet back into our tennis shoes and pack our backpacks up for the new school year.

And though this summer was over, we were already planning for the summer to come. The land to conquer, the bikes to ride, the adventures to be had outside of our concrete coops.

But now...

Now it’s 2016, and so much has changed. Growing up today are the members of Generation Z, also known as the “iGeneration.”

iPhones have replaced home phones, and virtual reality has replaced the great outdoors.

I look at the kids that I know now, and I feel sad for the experiences that they are missing out on because they are too busy Snapchatting and building worlds in Minecraft.

I look back at my childhood nostalgically, remembering all of the fun times I had and the adventures my friends and I made up for ourselves. From the blanket forts to the backyard scavenger hunts, these are the things that can’t be created through a screen, the things I will always remember.

I look back to ten years ago and think of the adventures I was having, not the Sims character I was designing. Generation Z is missing out on a world, that, with the way we are treating it, won’t be here for much longer. I mean, how could you care about the well-being of an Earth you never explored? They know more about the settings on their tablets than they do about the world living around them.

The worst part is that Generation Z-ers don’t even know what they’re missing.

Like everything else in life the topic of technology isn't simply black and white. It would be ridiculous to say that technology is entirely bad or that it is entirely good. It's simply a part of life these days, and should be used wisely especially amongst those with such young, impressionable minds.

Everything has a time and place, and I think that kids should be encouraged to go outside and have real-life encounters with real-life people, and not just encouraged to log on and check out of reality.

I don't know about you all, but I know that my kids aren't getting cell phones until they're married. No DMs to be slid into; we're taking it back to the days of the carrier pigeon.