Every few years, Hollywood hands parents a new babysitter and calls it culture.
This season it's a web-slinging cartoon that has kids sprinting out of theaters to beg for the same sneakers, the same hoodie, the same animated swagger.
Underneath, something quieter is being downloaded into millions of young minds, and most of us aren't paying attention.
The premise is seductive: there isn't one Spider-Man, there are infinite Spider-Men, each one special, each one the hero of their own story.
It also happens to be the exact logic of a generation raised on participation trophies and self-branding, now repackaged with a billion-dollar budget.
A story where every single person is the hero of their own universe doesn't teach courage.
It teaches that courage is optional, because the universe will simply supply another version of you who already has it.
Why struggle, why fail, why grow, when somewhere out there a cooler, braver, more confident you is already swinging between buildings?
The myth has a spiritual ancestor, and it isn't noble.
It's the medieval notion that every soul is the center of a cosmic drama, an idea that once kept peasants obedient and kings comfortable.
We dressed it in spandex and sold it back to our children as empowerment.
Watch what this does to an actual American kid.
He walks out of the theater convinced his ordinary life is a draft, a rough cut, and his "real" self is waiting in another dimension.
That belief is poison to the slow, boring, unglamorous work that actually builds a person.
Now stack it next to everything else we've already surrendered.
We let algorithms decide what our kids watch, brands decide what they wear, and now a franchise decides what they believe about themselves.
The church basement, the rec league, the corner store where somebody knew your name, all fading.
In their place, a screen teaching your child that belonging is optional because infinite versions of him already belong somewhere.
Your hero was your father, your coach, your grandmother, the guy who fixed the church roof for free.
You had to actually deal with them, and in dealing with them you became someone.
When the culture stops telling children that one life, lived well, is enough, we shouldn't be shocked when they grow into adults who can't commit, can't finish, and can't stop searching for the version of themselves that finally feels real.
Final Thoughts
If we keep handing our kids infinity, don't be surprised when they never learn to choose.