You know that mom, right? Maybe you’ve even been her—the mom at the playground, the museum, the grocery store, or storytime at the library. You spot another toddler, about the same size as your own, and you can’t help but listen in. Are they talking yet? You try to decipher how many words you can pick up, all while casually engaging with the other parent.
You nudge the conversation toward their kids’ ages, secretly hoping that if their child is chattering away, they’ve got a few extra months on your little one—the one who’s still keeping quiet.
It’s pretty common for toddlers in this age group to be babbling away, and each time I see this, I’m reminded that my daughter, Mia, is still in silence.
Mia is a delightful 23-month-old full of curiosity and love. We live in a small town where playdates happen at the park, church, or library. Recently, on a trip to Grandma’s, we found ourselves surrounded by toddlers who all seemed to have something to say.
Everywhere I turned, I heard other kids chirping away—at the playground: “Look at me! Slide! Swing!” At storytime, they were answering questions about the animals in the book. On the walking trail, they’d exclaim, “Look, water!” And at the kids’ museum, they shouted “Mine!” while clutching their toys. Meanwhile, all I could hear was silence from Mia.
From the start, my mom has reminded me that babies and toddlers don’t follow a manual on development. They’ll do things in their own time. Mia didn’t crawl until she was a year old, which felt like an eternity, especially when scrolling through social media and seeing other babies zooming around.
Now, with her speech development lagging, the silence feels more personal. I often find myself questioning if I should’ve read her one more bedtime story, taught her sign language, or enrolled her in more toddler classes. It’s a slippery slope of guilt that distracts me from truly seeing her and appreciating the little moments we share.
Focusing on her lack of words has made me overlook the beautiful things she is doing. I want her to talk—oh, how I long to hear her call me “Mama” and share her view of the world. But in the absence of her words, I see so much more. I see her giving hugs to our dog, reaching for books every morning, flipping through pages while laughing, and running to greet other toddlers with open arms. I see her folding her hands to pray when we say, “Let’s pray,” and running to the garden when it’s time to water the plants. I notice her excitement as she picks cherry tomatoes and cheers for her dad during church. I even see her waving at every passerby and studying leaves or sticks she finds.
The more I shift my focus from what she isn’t doing, the more I can appreciate all the wonderful things she is—this little marvel brimming with wonder and curiosity.
Sure, I still ponder how old other toddlers are and listen enviously to their chatter, still waiting with bated breath for Mia’s first words. But until that day comes, I’ll keep my eyes on her and cherish each moment.
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Summary
The journey of parenting a non-talking toddler can feel isolating, but it’s essential to focus on the beautiful moments and developmental milestones that are happening, even in silence. By shifting attention from what your child isn’t doing to all the precious ways they’re engaging with the world, you can embrace the unique gift of each stage of their growth.