Enter the baby-whisperer

Horseflesh enthusiasts speak in hushed tones of so-called 'horse whisperers', amazing individuals who can commune with horses and soothe, placate or otherwise communicate with steeds.

We are now wondering if such people exist in the childcare world, where they would presumably be elevated to the title of 'baby-whisperers'. The notion struck Pa the other day as we were in a busy train station and Mum had to pop into the adjacent supermarket for some veggies. For some reason, Sonny struck up a humongous screaming symphony - complete with streaming tears, howls and piteous groans.

Pretty soon, a crowd gathered of concerned passers-by, many of them offering such precious advice as "Maybe he needs feeding". Anyway, this embarrassing situation persisted after we escaped into the shopping centre next door: The little fella just would not let up... until she appeared. A middle-aged woman of no special distinction to look at, but who needed only to gaze into Sonny's tear-rimmed eyes before he magically shut up. She crooned a few incomprehensible sounds at him - presumably special words in the hidden language of babies - and he was entranced, staring transfixed and silent.

Actually, this sorcerous being was able to stem Sonny's tears for only a couple of minutes: Sonny resumed bawling after we entered a lift. But that is not to denigrate her implausible ability to shut him up instantly with just a look. Perhaps she was an apprentice baby-whisperer, still unable to dominate little ones for more than a few minutes at a time, but striving to learn hidden secrets from some ancient master hidden in a cave. Or perhaps in some dingy flat, though that would sort of spoil the effect.

Anyway, if anyone knows a baby-whisperer, we'd be grateful if you might tackle him or her and glean a few 'scream-shuttering' secrets. We might even be willing to consider some appropriate remuneration (several boxes of infant cereal, say). Specialists ought to be properly valued, we say.