From the Diary I wrote about my six grandchildren, all those times I took care of them when their parents were at work:
June 16, 2004. Milan almost 12
At half past one I get Milan from school and at one o'clock he has to be present in his new school.
Half an hour is tight to drive half the city at this time of the day, so his mother told him to stand ready at my arrival. Which is not the case and elicits an angry remark from me.
He is unusually quiet in the back of the car. In the rearview mirror I see a huddled little person.
I: Are you angry about something?
I: Are you sad about something?
Silence. Then I suddenly realize what it can be.
I: Are you a bit nervous because you see your new classmates for the first time?
Milan with a deep sigh: Pretty well!
I: That is not really necessary, in all groups where you came in new, there were always children that you liked and who liked you, so that is probably the case now too!
Again silence. And then: Well, now that I think about it, that is true. Yes.
I look in the mirror and we exchange satisfied looks.