When The Boy was just about 7 months old, we went to my sister’s house for Thanksgiving. I remember being concerned whenever The Boy cried; I didn’t want him to wake his cousins or Big Sis E or my brother-in-law.
During that visit, Big Sis E told me that even though she heard The Boy crying, it didn’t really faze her.
“It’s different when it’s not your kid,” she told me. “I can hear a baby crying and think, ‘Wow; someone’s not happy,’ but I don’t feel like I have to do anything.”
I didn’t quite understand that sentiment. But I was also still a new mom with an infant who still couldn’t form coherent words (let alone sentences), and my ears were tuned to the sound of crying infants.
Well, fast-forward almost four years later, and Cute Husband and I can hear Cousin E crying from the guest bedroom down the hall. The Boy, thankfully, is still asleep, blissfully impervious to her cries.
I can hear Cousin E crying, that same angry/tired/frustrated cry that I’d heard from The Boy so often so many years ago. And I turned to Cute Husband and said, “Isn’t it nice that we can hear a baby crying so frantically now and not be bothered by it? Because, I mean, it’s not our baby; it’s not our problem.”
And then I recalled that conversation with Big Sis E and realized how very right she was.