Somewhere about three quarters into the sermon, the baby girl’s first hint at a laugh turned into the first hint of a whimper, and before you could say Amen, a full-fledged cry. She was passed to her mother, who quickly whisked her away through a side door. My thoughts were again on my daughter beside me – now a teenager in every sense of the word. Like the baby in the pew, her moods can change so quickly it’s a wonder we don’t all get whiplash.
I spoke to the young father after church, but did not tell him what I knew – that one day in about 15 years, his sweet little peanut would go from adoring looks to slamming doors and back again. These girls can turn on a dime.