Rule #83: Be Thankful for Crying Babies on Planes
I was on a red-eye flight from San Diego to Chicago, heading home to Pennsylvania after a long couple of days of meetings. I was looking forward to a quiet ride in first class—stretch out, sip a nightcap, put on a movie, and drift off to sleep.
While waiting to board, I noticed a young woman traveling alone with a baby girl. My first thought? “Tough break for whoever sits next to her in coach.” I smugly assumed I had dodged that bullet.
But fate has a sense of humor. When I boarded, I watched in disbelief as the young woman with the baby slid into the seat right next to mine. My heart sank. So much for a quiet flight.
Then I saw it—the stares. The sideways glares from other passengers, the silent judgment cast on a mother simply trying to travel with her child. And in that moment, something shifted. This wasn’t a burden. This was a gift.
How often are we handed the chance to be kind? To protect someone vulnerable? To step outside ourselves and be the “good guy”? Right there, I decided that instead of being annoyed, I would embrace it. I told her I had six kids, that nothing she or her baby did would bother me, and I meant it. She exhaled with relief.
Each time the baby fussed, I stayed calm and offered help when I could. I noticed the video screen light was keeping her awake, so I shut mine off. My role, for those four and a half hours, was to make that journey a little less stressful for that mother and child. And strangely enough, it didn’t feel like a sacrifice. It felt like purpose.
Here’s what I realized: life gives us countless chances to be assholes, but far fewer to be champions. Most of the time, I miss mine—too rushed, too self-absorbed, too distracted. But crying babies can’t be ignored. They demand our attention. They wake up instincts we’ve buried.
And the beauty is, babies can’t thank us. They won’t remember a thing. Which is exactly the point. Helping isn’t about the thanks we get—it’s about who we become. Their cries remind us that kindness defines us, not them.
Yes, it’s easy to show patience with a baby. But the real challenge—and the real growth—comes in extending that same grace to coworkers, neighbors, or even strangers who rub us the wrong way. Those are the moments that shape us most.
So the next time you hear a baby crying on a plane, don’t sigh or roll your eyes. Be grateful. That baby may just be giving you the gift of purpose.
Look for the crying babies—and thank them.
Love, Dad