I am holding my head in my hand. I have been doing that a lot lately. When I was younger, older people would rebuke you for doing that. “What is a child like you thinking about that you need to hold your head in your hands” they would say. I did not understand it then but today it makes perfect sense. What in the world could worry a child to the point that he holds his head in his hands? Has he felt the joy of success in relation to the ignominy that comes with failure? Or has he experienced love in relation to the crushing pain of betrayal? The answer to most adults is probably ‘of course not’. But think again. In their own ‘little’ world, children feel these emotions in the same way that adults do. Consider this. The big problems to a 20 year old would come off as ridiculous to a 50 year old, in the same way that the troubles of a 5 year old would seem laughable to a 15 year old. The point is that the struggle begins from the day we are forced to draw our first breath of this cruel