Laughing at the Fallen Child

I saw a little boy fall down today.

Pain not good.  No like pain.  This is a very basic and very general sentiment, and thus when we find someone else hurting, our first response is to stop the pain.  Often, this is done through sympathy.  I remember reading somewhere that when a child falls, they don't actually have a response. They mirror what their parent does.  If the parent looks worried or panicked, the child will cry.  If the parent is nonchalant or humored, the child will stand back up, completely fine.
Due to this reading, I wanted to help the child by blowing off the situation and offering to help him up. His mother came to him, so I did not interfere.

Today I also read an article that talks about the current child-rearing practice of allowing all children to believe they are above average, and protecting them from uncomfortable things.
While it is good parenting advice to store for the future, it made me think a lot about myself.  They're talking about the kids raised in my generation.  They're talking about me.
Arguably, my anxious symptoms could have been caused by too much negative stimulus as opposed to not enough, but either way the result is the same: I am slow to make decisions, avoid leadership, and cannot handle painful situations well.

So now what? The article was directed at the parents, not the children.  It was certainly no how-to guide growing up after being protected from everything.  That's something I have to figure it out on my own, but it's certainly fitting that it should happen that way.

Incalculable data shows that pain is not avoidable in life.  It simply isn't.  No matter the bubble of protection someone has, or the shelter from bad things, or luck of the irish, life is going to be unhappy sometimes.  The point, as I have come to see it, is not to do anything stupid during these times.  And maybe I'll have the best chance of making smart choices in these times if I don't hate them so much.  Maybe I won't hate them so much if I can learn to be at peace sitting with unpleasantness.  Maybe I can learn to laugh at the fallen child.  At a fallen self.