Have you ever noticed how our children (now grandchildren to me) love to show us their boo-boos. It's just a part of life. Actually, it's more of a need than a want. I think we grown-ups have that need, too. This morning I was mowing and I got too close to one of the locust trees and it scratched my arm. No big deal; it happens every week. But when my wife Joyce came out to move the platform the grandkids use to reach their zip line so I could mow in that spot, I had to show her the scratchs in my arm and let her fuss over them a bit. As I drove off the mower apparently picked up a rock and hit her in the neck. It didn't break the skin, just stung a little and she could have gone inside and I'd have never know about it. Instead, she waited until I looked her way and pointed at her neck and made a face that said, "that hurt!"

As we mature, our boo-boos, or "owies", usually come more in the way of emotional hurts rather than skinned knees or bruises. Often they're invisible, but still we need to "show" them to someone who will fuss over them a little. I think it's because we need to know someone cares.

The emotionally disturbed people who shoot up schools or offices are often found to be someone who was virtually ignored by those around them. No one to show their boo-boos to; or at perhaps they showed them, but got no reaction, no "fussing over," no show of concern. Think about that when someone wants to show you their boo-boo. Maybe even fuss over them a bit.