It's no joy to be sick. It's even less joy when your child is sick. But most unjoy is when you AND your child are sick together.

That happened to my poor wife a few weeks ago. She and Little Lady, going on three years old, both had a cold -- with all sneezing and wheezing, hacking and coughing, wailing and whining required for a certificate of authenticity.

Little Lady normally bubble-pops with zest and vigor. Actually "bursting at seems, bouncing off walls and ka-booming through roof" would be a more accurate description. So it was quite eerie to see her mope around like drooping leaves of a Siberian Peonies that's been fed too much stale beer...not that I have a clue how drooping leaves of a Siberian Peonies that's been fed too much stale beer would look.

Every now and then, moping would be punctuated with a sneeze. Little Lady has a most flamboyant sneezing style, adorning walls in unique patterns. No corner of room is safe when she sneezes. In fact, her projection has taught her baby sister in her playpen across room fine art of dodging.

While I was cleaning up Little Lady's flamboyance, my wife was trying to sooth a sore throat that was threatening to rip her very insides apart. Normally she doesn’t drink tea. Normally we don't even use kettle, except to heat water for warming up baby's bottle.

But this day was different. My wife was sick and she wanted a cup of tea. So she turned on already full kettle, waited for it to sing, poured water over a tea bag and sat down to enjoy a soothing cup of tea.

I walked into room. Frequent readers will recognize this critical error of mine from past columns. You'd think I would learn.

"This tea is soooo good, honey," she said.

"Uh, where did water come from?"

I overheard my daughter talking to my two year old other day and it caused me to remember those days long ago when her older brother used to talk about 'what matter is.' At thirteen, Sissy is a natural healer and nurturer. She hovers over her baby brother kissing all of his owies and making sure that life is gentle and kind to him. We have many debates over just how much mothering is smothering, but that's another topic for another day. What caught my attention that day was that while our little Buddha Napoleon was whining and grumbling in his two year old lingo, she was continually asking him, "What's wrong?" She repeatedly asked it in most loving and dear voice. "What's wrong?" You could definitely tell that she was genuinely concerned and wanted to know what was bothering him and how could she help. "What's wrong?" Over and over she asked him, "What's wrong?" as he babbled incoherently at her about something that was obviously 'wrong' in his world.

I found myself getting really annoyed. But why? I began thinking about why that question repeated in such a sugar coated voice was bothering me so deeply. Then it hit me. This is core of where we learn to think that something is wrong with our lives. It's that question asked of us since cradle. "What's wrong?" That gets us thinking that something is actually wrong.

I told her to shift her question to "What's matter?" I told her that it means same as "What's topic?" She could also say, "Tell me why you are upset." Or ask him "Why are you crying?" She could also ask him, "How can I help?" Make conversation about topic or event without actually assuming that something in life must be 'wrong'. Just because we are upset or frustrated doesn't mean that life is wrong.

Asking someone, "What's wrong?" immediately puts them into mind frame of describing what is wrong with their circumstances. They focus only on negative and not on problem solving or solutions. They aren't focused on their own role in creating situation. By asking someone, "What's wrong?" we are doing them a disservice. We are sending them down wrong path. The goal should be to guide them towards finding peace within moment, towards finding solutions, towards self esteem and other things that help them move through difficult times in their life.