Angry (2002) Red Travertine, 18 cm Back From the diary I wrote about my six grandchildren; all the times I used to babysit for them when their parents were at work: June 16, 2004. Milan almost 12.

At half past twelve, I picked up Milan at school and he has to get to his new school by one o’clock. Half an hour drive halfway across town at this time of day is cutting it close, so his mother urged him to be ready when I got there. Which wasn’t the case and meant me yelling at him. It is unusually quiet in the backseat. I see someone huddled up in the rearview mirror.

Me: Are you angry about something?
Milan: No.
Me: Are you sad about something?
Milan: No.
Silence. I suddenly figure out what’s wrong.
Me: Are you a little nervous about seeing your new class for the first time?
Milan with a deep sigh: Totally!
Me: You really don’t need to be, every class and group you ever been in, you’ve always immediately met kids you liked and who liked you right away, so that will most likely be the case here as well!

Silence again. And then: Well, I thought about it, and, yes, it will be.
I look in the mirror and we exchange contented looks.