A couple of weeks ago, we took our nine year old son with us to Ethiopia. There he toured an orphanage that reminded me of Auschwitz. He met a boy whose mother died on his 6th birthday, at which point he lived on the streets until he came to into the orphanage. Our son saw children wearing literally rags, with bare shoes and empty bellies, who had no idea where their next meal would come from. He gave toys to little boys who had never owned a toy before.
We did this to try and give him some perspective on his life, so that he would realize his life of luxury, and be grateful for his many, many blessings.
We did this so that, for instance, after attending an exemplary public school, eating a nutritious meal out of his abundantly stocked kitchen, surrounded by a family who loved him, wearing new, clean clothes, if he were playing a video game on a Kindle that cost more than most Ethiopians earn in a year, and he had spent a lot of time building a house in Minecraft, and it somehow disappeared, he would not burst into tears and say, "I don't understand why this is happening to me!! It's not fair!! I hate my life!!"