When Neil Armstrong died in August, it got me thinking about what it takes to be an explorer. But as Armstrong was a man of such few words, I decided to loop in Buzz Aldrin, the No. 2 man on the moon, because he wrote an autobiography.

What made Buzz brave enough to go 238,857 miles from home? He credits the Lone Ranger.

"Determination, strength, independence — those were the qualities I worshiped in my favorite movie hero, the Lone Ranger," he wrote in "Reaching for the Moon." "I went to the movies every Saturday, and sometimes I even snuck in through the fire escape when I didn't have the money to buy a ticket. I felt just like the Lone Ranger the day I set off to ride my bike across the George Washington Bridge to New York City. Ten years old, I pedaled twenty miles down unfamiliar roads and busy streets, past neighbors and strangers, out into the unknown. Just like the Lone Ranger, I didn't need help from anyone. It took me all day, but I found the way and did it myself."

Now, let's think of how that would play out today:

Buzz: Mom, I'm going to ride my bike across the George Washington Bridge into New York City, OK?

Mom: No.

Which brings me to a full-page Clorox ad in this month's Parents magazine. It shows a house filled with the flotsam and jetsam of everyday life — a bathtub, lamps, laundry baskets. It says, "Your children are explorers."

And then, in slightly smaller letters, "Your house is their expedition."

And then, in even smaller letters, after bragging about Clorox's germ-killing power, "We'll protect them on their journey."

Hey, kids: Dream big! You can explore the whole house! Talk about the journey of a lifetime. Let's get this expedition started. How about you bravely venture forth into the den? Or the dining room? To the pantry — and beyond!

Clearly, anything outside the house is just too much for kids to step a toe into, because it's too dangerous. Why, there are germs out there! And that's not to mention all the other dangers we hear about constantly: Strangers. Perverts. Predators.

The obits told us Armstrong had been fascinated by flight since his dad took him for a ride in a Tin Goose at age 6. Pretty soon, he wanted to start flying himself. "Neil, honey. I know you want to spread your wings, but really, there's no need. Hop in the station wagon. I can drive you wherever you want to go." That's what his mom did not say.

Instead, Armstrong learned to fly by age 15. He didn't just leave the house; he left the planet.

The tragedy of today's childhood is not that parents are so overprotective. It's that they don't even see how chicken they've become. Society — heck, Clorox ads! — has convinced them that there is no difference between a childhood spent captive indoors and a childhood spent in exuberant exploration. Then they turn around and convince their kids. It's hard to imagine where the next generation of adventurers is going to come from if the driveway is as daunting as the Sea of Tranquility.

When Neil and Buzz left the moon, they planted a plaque: "Here men from the planet Earth first set foot upon the moon. July 1969 A.D. We came in peace for all mankind."

In July 1969, children from the planet Earth could take to their bikes and ride up a hill and not come down until the moon came up.

Now they can explore the mudroom.

That's not what I'd call a giant leap for mankind.

Lenore Skenazy is the author of "Free-Range Kids: How to Raise Safe, Self-Reliant Children (Without Going Nuts with Worry)" and "Who's the Blonde That Married What's-His-Name? The Ultimate Tip-of-the-Tongue Test of Everything You Know You Know — But Can't Remember Right Now." To find out more about Lenore Skenazy ([email protected]) and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate Web page at www.creators.com.