Sometimes it's just those small things. I was picking up daughter from pre-school (she's 6, the age for pre-school here). Overheard a few girls tell another mum that there's a new girl coming to the class on Monday. Desiree. And she's black.
I was amazed and saddened though the way some of the kids handled it. One boy invented - at the time or had before - to call her desilitre... One girl kept saying she's a nigger (the word in Finnish isn't as bad here as in some other places, but has the same root). The way she was spoken about by that particular group of kids sounded like she wont have it that easy.
I was so happy to hear daughter speak about the matter as a normal thing. Luckily we have friends who don't look exactly like us in many different ways. She started practising her English so that she can play with Desiree - the teacher had spoken with the mother in English, so it is unclear what language the girl speaks. It warmed my heart. Perhaps it wont be so hard for the new little girl after all.