At home, baby girl is rarely quiet.  If she is, I know she’s up to something.  Otherwise, she’s chatting, squealing, laughing, stomping all day long.

A few weeks ago, she and I went to meet the closest thing I have to a friend in this city at a cafe. Not only was she quiet, but she wouldn’t let me put her down. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen her shut down like that in public. At almost every mama-baby activity we attended, she would look around at the other women and their babies, with a look of dread, and often cry. On the metro, she would stare at strangers, but no matter how many smiles or silly faces they sent her way, she refused to reciprocate. I chalked it up to an introverted personality, which she could have inherited from either one or both of her parents.

So when we were invited to my friend’s daughter’s birthday party, I knew what to expect. A room full of strangers and an afternoon of holding and comforting my overwhelmed child.

Imagine my surprise when she not only toddled away from me but actually interacted with other children and smiled at adults. Instead, Hubby and I were the quiet ones. He knew no one at the party, and the few people I was acquainted with offered little more than stilted small talk. I turned my attention to baby girl, just watching my little miss play and enjoy herself. Which was enough to make for a lovely afternoon.



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4 thoughts on “Quiet

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