Leila Berg (1917–2012)

To anyone trying to make sense of kids, this book is the next best thing to volunteering in a preschool or paying close attention to your own children. The author relates with a sensitive and sympathetic point of view her observations of various situations involving children. She relates anecdotes anger-inducing and funny, bleak and hopeful.

To share one:

I heard of a child who played all day inseparably with a boy called Johnny, a West Indian boy. Johnny's mother went to work and Mandy's didn't, so Johnny had his meals with Mandy and went home at night. When Mandy and Johnny were five they started school. Mandy came home - without Johnny.

"Where's Johnny, then?" said her mother.
A haughty shrug. Silence.
"Where is he?"
Silence.
"Is he coming later?"
Silence.
The mother, perplexed, left her and went inside to get tea ready. Then -
"Tea's ready. Has Johnny come?"
Silence.
"Isn't he having tea today?"
Silence.
"What's the matter? Where IS Johnny? Have you had a quarrel? What's happened?"
"Well!" said Mandy, tossing her head with what Blake called Experience. "He never told me he was black!"… (meer)