Whenever a child comes to my house for the first time, I make a point to ask the parent if the child has any food allergies.

If the child did have a life-threatening allergy, the parent would probably offer that information unprompted. But it's become such a part of the parenting culture to inquire -- a prerequisite for playdates or sleepovers.

Statistically speaking, however, a child is more likely to be accidentally shot and killed by a firearm than die of an allergic reaction to a peanut. And yet the conversation about guns among friends, neighbors and relatives has not become as routine.

While food allergies have been internalized as a public risk and childhood epidemic, the same cannot be said about guns.

More than 3,000 children and teens, up to age 19, are shot unintentionally each year on average, according to the Brady Campaign to Prevent Gun Violence.

In 2013, there were 108 accidental firearm deaths for those 18 years old and younger, according to data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. The CDC does not specifically track peanut allergy deaths, but recorded 21 food-allergy-related deaths -- children and adults -- in that same year.

When looking at the totality of all firearm-related deaths for children and teens -- not just accidental ones -- the number is obviously much higher.

In 2010, there were 2,711 infant, child and teen firearm deaths. Writer Evan DeFilippis put this in perspective in an essay about the impact of firearms on children: "More American children and teenagers died from gunfire in 2010 -- a single year -- than U.S. troops in Afghanistan since 2001."

Has any parent ever asked me if we have a firearm in the house before entrusting me with their child? No. I've hosted countless children, and I've never been asked that question.

Catherine Mortensen, a spokeswoman for the National Rifle Association and mother of a 17-year-old daughter and 12-year-old son, says she and her husband have been gun owners since before their children were born. Their children have grown up shooting and are comfortable around firearms.

"I've never had a parent ask" about how their weapons are secured, she said.

But she wouldn't be offended if anyone did, she added. "I would tell them the truth: We do have firearms in the home. They are safely stored in a safe away from the children. They are inaccessible."

Becky Morgan of St. Louis also has two teenagers, and is the Missouri chapter lead for Moms Demand Action for Gun Sense in America. She said that recent high-profile news stories about accidental shooting deaths prompted her to ask the parents of her children's friends about firearms.

"You don't want to hurt anyone's feelings and you don't want to make anyone feel uncomfortable," she said. "But I would hate for something to happen, and I didn't ask because I was uncomfortable."

So far, every conversation she has had on the topic has gone smoothly. None of the parents she's talked to have owned a firearm, which makes the follow-up much easier for her. She said if she did encounter a family with guns in the house, she would ask to have the friend come visit at her home instead.

While the NRA says it's a personal decision for gun owners to decide how to store guns, they do advise keeping firearms "inaccessible to unauthorized users," Mortensen said.

The way to reduce the risk of children and teen gun deaths is to store guns unloaded and locked, and to store ammunition separately, also locked. And teach your kids these simple instructions if they ever encounter a firearm: Assume it's loaded. Don't touch it. Leave the area and tell an adult immediately.

The topic falls naturally into a wider conversation about safety concerns, said Danielle Alperin, program manager at the Brady Center.

"It's something we've found people kind of worry might be uncomfortable or awkward, but it could save a child's life," she said. Plus, their research found there's little if any resistance among gun owners to these questions. A responsible gun owner will want to tell you it's safely stored.

Once a parent has that information, it's up to them to decide how to act on it, depending on their comfort level, she said.

I've had to ask a close family member and longtime friends about their gun storage, after learning that the families owned guns. I do believe the people in my life who keep firearms in their homes are responsible adults who would do anything to keep their children, and my own, safe.

But I've decided that if I can casually ask about lethal peanuts, I can ask a few direct questions about a weapon designed to kill.

Rejection season is nearly upon us.

While it used to be a rite of passage for 17- and 18-year-old high school seniors, younger and younger children are now facing the admissions process.

Parents have pushed for more choices in education, and there's a growing number of magnet and charter schools to serve public school students. With these choices comes greater responsibility for parents to research the options, maneuver through the maze of alternatives and then handle the application process.

But there's a trickle-down effect of constantly competing. Welcome to today's high-stakes childhood, where children as young as third and fourth grade are enrolled in private test-prep classes to give them an edge on standardized test scores. Fifth- or sixth-graders apply to middle schools. Eighth-graders try for the best high schools. Seniors wait for college decisions, many of which should be arriving in the next several weeks.

Families with the time and resources to compete for selective institutions have always done so. With the rise of competitive public school options and a greater willingness to invest in childhood enrichment, that pressure is not just confined to elites. Meanwhile, a third of teens reported feeling overwhelmed by stress, and just as many expected their stress to increase, according to a recent survey by the American Psychological Association.

Children navigate social rejection almost daily: Someone doesn't want to play with them on the playground or sit with them at lunch or invite them to their party. It's an essential part of life to learn to cope with the feelings those moments provoke.

What is the right age to face institutional rejection? Does it make more of an impact at a younger age, or are young kids impervious to the expectations we create in our heads as we get older?

For those who might be facing their first serious setback in the coming weeks, it's good to keep such stumbling blocks in perspective.

Annie Fox, author of "The Girls' Q&A Book on Friendship: 50 Ways to Fix a Friendship Without the Drama," says rejection can be character-building if parents deal with it in a positive way.

"Acknowledge what (children) are feeling," she said. A child may feel hurt, "less than" or that the decision isn't fair. "Be empathetic. Share a story when you may have experienced the same," Fox said. Maybe there was a time when you didn't make a team, get a part or a promotion that required a lot of hard work. It's helpful to talk about how those disappointments opened doors to other opportunities.

Setbacks create chances to do things that would not have been possible if a first-choice plan had worked out.

For children who have access to a good-enough education, having a positive attitude and resiliency have been proven to pay off in long-term success. And, unlike a social rejection, which is intensely personal, an institutional rejection may often have to do with factors completely outside the control of an applicant.

You may think once you're established in your career, you're done with the rejection gauntlet. But then you have children, and face those agonizing choices and waiting games all over again. Somehow, these decisions feel even more fraught and stressful than those you made for yourself. You're responsible for giving another person their best opportunities.

It's useful to remember and appreciate the roadblocks we faced on our own journeys.

I started kindergarten in public school and graduated from the same public school system, blissfully unaware of high-stakes testing until I showed up for the SAT one Saturday morning. I only applied to two universities, remarkably similar ones. I didn't feel the sting of a significant rejection until I was either 19 or 20. Back in those heady days of print journalism, scoring an internship at a daily metro newspaper was harder than gaining admission to either college to which I applied.

I tried for internships at papers throughout the country, so I received my share of coast-to-coast rejection letters. But you know what happens when you cast a net wide enough. Eventually, something turns up.

It's the way you chase those rare triumphs through the rejections that changes the direction of your life.

I keep coming back to that picture of the two of you dancing together.

She's in that confection of a white wedding dress, her hand in yours, which is lifting her arm overhead in that moment before a twirl. I can't see your expression in that photo because your back is to us. But I can see it in my mind.

This is your beautiful princess, the tiny baby girl you brought home 21 years ago. Her face is lit with that expression brides often wear. That glow of bliss and joy and expectation of a long journey of love ahead. Your beloved daughter posted this photo and captioned it "Dancing with Daddy."

A little more than a month ago, you and your wife saw that dream parents have for their children come true: Your child found a worthy love and life partner. She was going to start dental school. You would see them begin to build a life together.

And then this nightmare.

Craig Stephen Hicks, 46, turned himself into police Tuesday for allegedly putting a gun to the head of that newly married young woman, her husband and her younger sister in their home. He has been charged with the first-degree murders of Deah Shaddy Barakat, 23, his wife Yusor Mohammad Abu-Salha, 21, and her sister, Razan Mohammad Abu-Salha, 19, at the University of North Carolina.

A murderer robs more than just his victims of their lives. He robs everyone who loves them; he robs the entire world of their gifts. And your daughters and son-in-law had so many gifts to share. They had enormous hearts that wanted to restore the broken smiles in this world. They showed compassion and grace and intelligence. What a remarkable job you and your wife did raising your daughters. What a remarkable job Deah's parents did.

I read your words in news reports after the authorities suggested this heinous triple homicide may have stemmed from a parking dispute.

"It was execution style, a bullet in every head," you said. "This was not a dispute over a parking space; this was a hate crime."

Premeditated killers never seem psychologically balanced. Isn't some degree of madness a precondition to mass murder? But was this perpetrator's anger fueled from a place of hatred? Where does that hatred start? How does it grow? How is it nurtured and reinforced? Those are questions that need to be asked.

It's not hard to imagine what the media storm around this crime would have been if your daughters had not been Muslims who wore headscarves. Or what the coverage may have looked like if the accused had been Muslim and had posted anti-Christian screeds before murdering three students in cold blood.

We know what that coverage would look like. We've seen it time and time again.

But it's not just the Muslim community in Chapel Hill who joins your voice for a thorough and transparent investigation. Every fair-minded person in this country wants justice for your children. Those of us who see parts of ourselves in your family feel your loss as our own. Your daughters were best friends; my sisters are mine. Your girls wore hijab; so do my mother and sister-in-law. Deah's sister said she cried tears of joy at her brother's wedding, as I did at mine. I know the look that must have been on your face when you twirled your daughter because I remember my father's face on my wedding day. Your daughters were your light; my children are mine.

There is bile-tainted grief that comes after a loved one is murdered. There is an incomprehensible pain to your loss. From my heart, I will pray for that to lessen.

I will heed your words to remember the best parts of their all-too-short lives. I will remember Deah, a 23-year-old young man, helping to feed and care for the homeless in his community and raising money to fly overseas to provide dental care to refugees. I will remember his last text to his mother: "I love you mama."

I will remember your daughters for their creativity, kindness and grace. For the manner in which they excelled and gave to their community.

I've visited the memorial Facebook page a relative created for your daughters and son-in-law, where I've stared at that wedding picture, full of promise. I have also reread several times these words posted by a family member:

"Many, many amazing people have condemned this crime from across the world including many random people who seem to want to apologize for the heinous acts of this man. Muslims know all too well that the actions of few may not define the masses. Love shall overcome."

North Carolina will not forget your children, Dr. Mohammad Abu-Salha.

Muslims and Americans will not forget your children.

We will remember their example to fight hate with love.

Surely, it will overcome.