Little Belle's Mama

Lately, I’ve found myself listening in on a tiny, one-person show happening in my home. It’s not a podcast or a TV series, but it’s just as entertaining—maybe even more. My daughter, deep in her world of play, has started talking to herself. Not just muttering or making sounds, but fully responding to imaginary situations with the most dramatic little reactions: “Here! Yes, yes!” or “Oh no… hmm… no no no.”

At first, I thought she was just repeating things she had heard from us. But no, this was something different. It had a rhythm, a story that only she understood. She would pick up a toy, make a decision, then suddenly gasp as if something had gone terribly wrong. And I would sit there, trying to hold back my laughter because, honestly, it was just too funny.

What makes it even better is the seriousness with which she does it. There’s no hesitation, no self-consciousness—just pure, in-the-moment expression. She’s her own narrator, reacting to every twist and turn of the game she’s playing. I don’t always know what’s happening in this imaginary world, but I do know that something important is unfolding. Sometimes, she sounds like a tiny director running a very dramatic production. Other times, she sounds like someone having an intense negotiation with an invisible friend. Either way, I love it.

Then came the day when the caretakers at her Kita told us that she does the same thing there. Apparently, while playing with toys or moving around the room, she provides live commentary, just as she does at home. But the best part? The other children have started joining in.

I can just imagine the scene: my daughter saying “Oh nooooo!” in her usual exaggerated way, and suddenly, a chorus of tiny voices echoing after her—“Oh nooooo!” It’s like an unplanned, spontaneous theater performance with multiple enthusiastic participants. The image of a group of toddlers all dramatically reacting to something only they can see is almost too much to handle. I wish I could be a fly on the wall just to witness it in person.

There’s something magical about the way children create their own little worlds. They don’t need scripts or explanations; they just act and react, completely unfiltered. And for my daughter, this kind of expressive play seems to come so naturally. Maybe it’s her way of making sense of things, or maybe she just enjoys the sound of her own voice. Either way, I find it endlessly entertaining.

It’s also a reminder of something beautiful—how much joy there is in small things. We spend so much time as adults trying to be efficient, practical, and serious. But then here’s this little person, completely absorbed in a world of her own, speaking her thoughts out loud with no concern for whether anyone is listening. And somehow, it’s hilarious.

I often wonder what’s going on in her mind when she does this. Is she playing out a scene she saw somewhere? Is she making up a completely new story? Does she know how funny she sounds? I’ll never know for sure, but what I do know is that this phase—this delightful stage where she talks to herself and unknowingly makes me laugh—is something I want to remember forever.

I try to be subtle when I listen in because I don’t want her to feel self-conscious and stop. I don’t want her to think there’s anything unusual about it. If anything, I hope she keeps this uninhibited way of expressing herself for as long as possible. Maybe one day, she’ll be the kind of person who narrates her thoughts while cooking or mutters “Oh no!”s at her computer screen. And honestly, I’d love that.

For now, I’ll just keep enjoying these little moments. I’ll keep laughing silently as she negotiates with her toys, gasps at imaginary problems, and leads a group of toddlers in dramatic exclamations at Kita. Because childhood moves fast, and one day, she’ll outgrow this stage. But until then, I’ll treasure every “Hmm… no no no.” and every “Oh nooooo!” that fills our home with unexpected comedy.