Fear isn’t always visible on our children’s faces, even when their bodies are in turmoil.
When my son was around four, we left the farm to visit the city for the day. We sat by a market square with an ice cream each, when a drunken man walked up to us yelling and gesticulating.
He soon walked away, and I looked at my son, who sat very still. My hand was on his chest, and I could feel his heart pounding.
He was in fear of his life, but there wasn’t much showing.
I learned something that day.
Now, whenever I wonder if he’s afraid, I place my hand gently on his heart. It helps me know him better.