Navigating Church with a Toddler: A Heartfelt Reflection

By Melanie Greene

Is having a two-and-a-half-year-old a reason to stay away from church? Is it justification for hiring a babysitter to keep them at home until they’re older? Or perhaps a reason for attending Mass separately from my family, ensuring someone is always available to stay behind? These are the questions I grapple with every weekend as Mass approaches.

As many parents know, the so-called ‘terrible twos’ are less about defiance and more about a child’s growing desire for independence. This stage—while often marked by emotional outbursts and boundary-testing—is a normal, healthy part of development. For my daughter, it’s not tantrums that present the greatest challenge during Mass, but rather her strong will to explore, play, and express her independence in the only way a toddler knows how—through movement, curiosity, and sound. At home we pray to Mary, so at Church she wants to in her words, “Go by Mary and Jesus”.

I count myself blessed that she hasn’t had a full-blown meltdown during Service, but she is undeniably in a stage of life where sitting quietly for extended periods is simply not aligned with her developmental needs. She wants to move, observe, and interact with the world around her. And in a church setting, that often results in a level of noise and activity that draws unwanted attention.

I’ve become increasingly aware of the sighs, the sidelong glances, the subtle eye rolls, the negative body language or looks of disapproval from those around us.

There’s a judgement—spoken or not—that implies my child is misbehaving or that I’m somehow failing as a parent. But in truth, she is behaving exactly as a two-and-a-half-year-old should. It may not align with the expectations of quiet decorum during Mass; ‘the perfect Catholic attitude’, but it is age-appropriate, innocent, and genuine.

As a devoted Catholic and parent, I have supported the Church in many meaningful ways over the years — from participating in fundraisers to volunteering my time cleaning the church on weekends, among other acts of service. I have always believed in the Church as a place of faith, family, and belonging.

However, I now find myself feeling unwanted and unappreciated, simply because of the gift God has given me — my child, my miracle. This has left me questioning: is this truly the Church that welcomes and embraces everyone as family?

I come prepared—with books, dolls, stickers, quiet toys. I hope, each time, that something will hold her attention long enough for me to take in the readings, the homily, and the Eucharist. But more often than not, the toys only distract for a while. Eventually, she wants to explore—maybe even walk up the aisle. And when her need for movement grows too strong, I do what I feel is best: I quietly take her outside so she can run freely without disturbing others.

But this too has its complications. Stepping out during Mass means I often miss large parts, and I question whether I’m truly participating. I’ve even heard some priests emphasise that there are specific moments during the liturgy when exiting or re-entering the church is considered inappropriate. And yet, toddlers don’t schedule their needs. They don’t wait for a convenient time to voice frustration or assert their independence

What adds to this dilemma is seeing other parents allow their children to run around during Mass, something I personally find concerning. While I understand the impulse to avoid confrontation or conflict, I worry about it being a distraction—not only to the congregation but especially to the priest. The thought of my daughter running toward the altar makes me anxious, and I do my best to prevent such moments.

So, here I am—wondering what is right, respectful, and sustainable. I don’t want to exclude my child from the spiritual nourishment and sense of community that church provides. I want her to grow up with the rhythm of Mass as a normal part of life. But I also don’t want her presence to feel like a disruption to others or to leave Mass each week feeling judged and discouraged. Where and how can the Church provide a solution?

This is a season, I know. One day she will sit quietly, perhaps even listen attentively. But for now, I continue to weigh my options and prayerfully seek guidance: Do I leave her home? Attend separately from my family? Keep trying and hope for grace and understanding from my parish community?

More than anything, I hope for a space where young families feel welcomed in all the beauty—and noise—that comes with early childhood. A space that embraces the spiritual value of simply showing up, even when it’s messy.