IT seemed as if they were going to be friends. Meeting face to face in mid-crawl, they'd gazed at one another for some time. This first experiment in socialising seemed to be working.

A young mother I'd got to know by the swings in the park had told me about the toddler group in a church hall not far away. My grandson was just coming up to a year old, wanting to be on the go most of the day, but the autumn had turned very wet and the flat was full of builders. A toddler group seemed the answer. It would give him some company and a new set of toys. He would begin to learn to socialise and it might even help get him in the mood for nursery, when a place eventually came up for him. He was a friendly child with smiles for everyone so I had great hopes for him.

I took him along. For the first few minutes, he sat firmly beside me on the carpet, watching in amazement all those babies and toddlers crawling and tottering around. He looked utterly bewildered. Then it dawned on him that there were more toys than he had ever seen in his life, so he set out to explore.

That's how he came across Ethan. They really did seem to like one another. They sat side by side, playing with the toys within reach,

Jonah with some blocks, Ethan with a car. I relaxed a bit, turned to talk to Ethan's mother.

There was a sudden indignant roar, turning to sobs of heartbreak. I dashed across the room to rescue my grandson, to put right whatever wrong had been done to him. But it wasn't Jonah crying. He was playing happily with a toy car - the toy car that Ethan had been playing with just a moment before. It was Ethan who was howling.

"Jonah pushed him in the face," said one of the mothers. So much for my friendly and charming grandson. Ethan's mother came to rescue her son. I returned the car to the little boy and distracted my grandson into playing with something else, and everything calmed down.

Small children aren't born knowing how to share. It doesn't seem to be something that comes naturally. They have to learn how to do it, and it's a hard lesson. Children with brothers and sisters learn in the rough and tumble of family life. Only children have to learn outside the family. That's where nurseries and playgroups have most to offer.

Now Jonah's been at nursery for well over a year. I've seen him playing with his cousins or with visiting children, and he's not just friendly and sociable, he also knows how to share toys, how to play happily in a group.

You can tell by the way he talks that he's got the idea. We took him to the zoo a few weeks ago. On the bus on the way there, he said suddenly: "It's everybody's bus." Later, watching the monkeys, he declared: "They're everybody's monkeys." He's quite right, of course. After all, that's what buses and zoos are all about, in a way.

He'll share his food too - even favourite things, like pieces of

Easter egg. But he hasn't completely got the hang of it. When he said to me lately: "I can share your torch, Nana," it was quite obvious he meant: "I can borrow your torch, Nana," because he had it in his hand and was switching it on and off.

And even now, sharing has its limits. At nursery, Jonah will share toys and books and the attention of his kindly carers. But there comes a point beyond which he will not share.

A few months ago, when he was starting back at nursery after Christmas, I'd go to meet him at the end of the day. That's a job to gladden any grandmother's heart. I'd walk into the room, where he'd be busy playing with something and he'd look round. His face would light up. "My Nana!" he'd cry, and come running with arms outstretched. On this particular day, a little girl followed us to the coat pegs so she could 'help' button him into his coat. She's one of those naturally mothering children. It took some time to get him ready to go out, since she kept undoing his buttons again so she could have the fun of doing it over and over. When at last we were ready, she followed us to the door. As I opened it, Jonah turned to her. "She's my Nana, not yours", he said. Then he took my hand and stepped outside, closing the door very firmly behind him.

Published: 24/06/2004