Montessori for Babies: What I'd Do Differently as a 3-6 Guide

I spent £800 on Montessori toys for my baby before learning what actually matters… and it has nothing to do with buying the right materials.

I spent £800 on Montessori toys before my son was even born. Here's what I wish I'd known instead.

I bought it all. The beautiful Montessori mobiles at just the right height. The perfect floor bed. A Pikler triangle. A gorgeous toy shelf filled with age-appropriate materials.

And then when my son was fussy and completely disinterested in the materials I'd spent hundreds on, I didn't know what I'd done wrong.

I'm a trained Montessori 3-6 guide and a mum of two. If I could go back to the baby stage, I wouldn't buy a single thing differently. But I would change five things that actually matter.

And it has nothing to do with buying the right toys.

What Babies Actually Need (It's Simpler Than You Think)

No one hands you a manual when you become a mum. You just Google at 2am. You scroll Instagram looking for answers. You buy things that promise to help your baby develop faster or play independently or hit milestones earlier.

And somewhere along the way you start thinking, “Am I doing this right? Am I enough? Is my baby getting what they need?”

What I've learned through two kids, Montessori training, and honestly just a lot of trial and error is that what babies actually need is way simpler than we think. And it has very little to do with having the perfect setup.

These five shifts are small tweaks that make a massive difference. You already have everything you need.

Quick disclaimer: I'm not saying I did everything wrong or that you're doing anything wrong. You're doing your best with what you know right now. This is just what I wish I'd known back then.

And the fifth shift is the one nobody talks about, but it's actually the foundation for everything else. If you get this wrong, none of the other shifts work.

Shift 1: From Always "Engaging" to Respecting Their Attention

What I Used to Do

I was really intentional about floor time. I used a topponcino when my son was tiny for that sense of security and familiarity. I had the beautiful Montessori mobiles hung at just the right height. I rotated them at the perfect times. When he was awake, I'd make sure he was lying under the mobile or on his movement mat… it was all very Montessori.

I genuinely thought this was what he needed. Age-appropriate materials. A prepared environment. Visual stimulation that matches his developmental stage.

The Moment Everything Changed

My son is lying on the floor, and I can feel this anxiety rising in my chest. He's three months old, just lying there on his mat with no mobile above him, no toys nearby, nothing.

And I'm thinking, “Is this okay? Should I be doing something?”

My mum is staying with us at the time, helping out those first few months, and we're sitting on the sofa with our chai just chatting about nothing particularly important. But I keep glancing over at him because he's just lying there, and I'm starting to think, “Should I move him under the mobile? Should I grab a toy? The black and white cards? Something?”

Because this is what I do, right? I provide the materials, I create the environment, that's my job as a Montessori mum.

But my mum keeps talking and I don't want to interrupt her mid-sentence, so I just keep glancing at him. And that's when I start to notice that he's not fussing. He's not crying. He's completely still, but in this really focused way.

His eyes are tracking us as we talk. Following the sound of our voices. And when my mum laughs, his head turns slightly toward her. He's listening. Not to a mobile or a toy, but to us. To the rhythm of our conversation, the rise and fall of our voices.

And then I see it. There's a throw on the sofa, this blue one with long tassels hanging off the edge, and somehow (I don't even know how he's done this) he's inched himself closer across the mat. His tiny fingers are stretching, reaching for one of the tassels. And then he grasps it and pulls it toward his face, feeling the texture, his fingers opening and closing around it. He's completely absorbed.

And I just sit there, chai in my hand, watching him. Because we haven't done anything for him. We haven't set up an activity, we haven't offered him a single material. But he's learning anyway… from the sound of our voices, from the light in the room, from that throw he discovered completely on his own.

I've been so focused on providing all the "right" things that I forgot sometimes babies don't need us to do anything. They just need us to let them be.

Why This Actually Matters

When we're constantly directing our baby's attention, "Look at this! Touch this! Watch this mobile!", we can accidentally interrupt their natural focus. We override what they're already interested in.

Babies are learning all the time. From conversations they overhear. From watching light move across the ceiling. From feeling the texture of a blanket. From observing our faces as we talk. They don't always need us to provide the input. Sometimes they just need us to step back and let them notice what's already there.

Dr. Magda Gerber, who founded the RIE approach, talked about this. She said babies need "uninterrupted time to explore and learn." Not unattended… uninterrupted. There's a difference. We're present, we're nearby, but we're not constantly engaging them.

When we give babies that space to just be, they actually develop longer attention spans. They learn to focus deeply on one thing. They start to build this confidence that they can explore and discover without needing us to direct every single moment.

What to Try Instead

• Set up a safe, comfortable floor space.
  It doesn't need to be fancy. A soft mat, maybe a topponcino for tiny babies. Somewhere your baby can stretch out fully, move freely, and just be.

• Let them be part of everyday life.
  You don't always need to "do" something with them. If you're folding laundry, let them lie nearby and watch. If you're chatting with a friend, let them listen. If you're reading a book, they can be beside you taking in the quiet.

• Resist the urge to constantly engage them.
  If they're lying there quietly, observing, focused on something… don't interrupt. Don't feel like you need to show them a toy or redirect their attention. Just let them explore whatever has caught their interest.

Sometimes the best thing we can offer isn't a perfectly curated material. It's just the freedom to notice what's already around them.

Shift 2: From the Perfect Shelf to Following Your Child

The Instagram Comparison Trap

I was following this Montessori blogger religiously. And I mean religiously. She had a child who was almost the same age as my son, and everything she'd do with her kid, I'd find a way to do the same thing.

One day she posted this photo of the most beautiful toy shelf she'd set up for her child. Soft colorful balls, bean bags in different textures, these metallic interlocking rings that caught the light. And I thought… wow, that's gorgeous. That's exactly what my son needs.

So without even thinking about it, I went and found almost exactly the same materials. As close as I could get. I set up the same shelf in our living room. It looked perfect. I felt so organized, so intentional.

I'd see photos of her child inching towards that beautiful shelf, reaching for the balls, exploring everything. And then I'd look at my son, lying on the floor with that exact same shelf right there in front of him. And he'd barely glance at it.

I'm thinking, “What am I doing wrong? I've got the right materials for his age. I've set it up exactly how she did. Why isn't this working?”

What Observation Actually Taught Me

So one day I decide… okay, let me actually step back and observe. Because everyone in Montessori says "observe the child," but I never really understood what that meant. Like, observe what? For how long? What am I even looking for?

I set up a timelapse on my phone… I prop it up on the shelf across the room so I can watch the footage back later. And then I position myself close enough that he's safe, but far enough back that he can't see me and I won't be tempted to interrupt him.

And I just... let him be. For about fifteen minutes.

When I sit down later that evening to watch the timelapse back, I'm expecting to see… I don't know… maybe him reaching for something, or looking bored, or fussing because I'm not there engaging with him.

But that's not what I see at all.

The entire fifteen minutes (and I mean almost all of it) he's working on rolling over.

He's already figured out how to get onto his side. He can do that bit. But what he's trying to master is the full roll from his back all the way onto his tummy. And the problem is his arm keeps getting stuck underneath him. So he'd get halfway there, arm trapped, and he'd have to wriggle back and try again.

Over and over. For fifteen minutes.

And then, right near the end of the video, he does it. He gets onto his side, and instead of getting stuck, he manages to pull his arm free and roll all the way over onto his tummy. And when he lands, he just lies there for a second, and then he lifts his head up and looks around. And you can see it on his face… this look of pure satisfaction. Like, I did that. I figured it out.

I'm sitting there watching this video with tears in my eyes because I realise if I hadn't stepped back and just observed, I would have completely missed this. I would have kept trying to get him interested in that shelf, kept thinking I was doing something wrong. When really, what he needed more than any of those materials was uninterrupted floor time to work on what he was actually ready for.

Not what some blogger said was age-appropriate. What he was working on right now.

Why Following the Child Comes First

Montessori starts with the child, not the shelf. Dr. Maria Montessori said it herself: "Follow the child." But we can't follow them if we're not watching them.

When we observe first, we can offer exactly what they're ready for. Not what the Instagram post said they should be doing. Not what the developmental milestone chart says. What your baby is actually working on right now in this moment.

Sometimes what they're working on isn't even a toy. Sometimes it's a gross motor skill, like rolling. Sometimes it's the light on the wall. The sound of a zipper. The texture of your cardigan. And that's okay. That's actually perfect. Because that's what they need.

How to Observe Your Baby

• Watch your baby for 5 to 10 minutes without interrupting. Put your phone in another room… or if you're using it to record like I did, just step back. Sit on the floor or on a nearby couch. And simply observe.

• Ask yourself: What are they focused on? Are they reaching for things? Mouthing things? Rolling? Pushing up? Just staring at something? What is capturing their attention right now?

• Offer one thing that matches that interest. Not five toys. One. If they're working on grasping, offer something easy to hold. If they're mouthing everything, offer something safe to chew. If they're fascinated by movement, maybe a scarf they can wave or a ball they can roll.
  The goal isn't to entertain them. It's to support what they're already trying to do.

And if they ignore what you offer? That's okay too. It just means they're working on something else. Watch a bit longer and try again.

Montessori isn't about perfect toy shelves. It's about seeing your child clearly and meeting them exactly where they are.

Shift 3: From Fixing Feelings to Holding Space

The Fix-It Instinct

This next shift is honestly the hardest one. Because it goes against every instinct you have as a mum.

The second my daughter started crying, I'd go into fix-it mode. Bouncing, shushing, offering the dummy, trying a different position, turning on white noise, singing a song… anything to make the crying stop as fast as possible.

And I genuinely thought that was my job. Good mums don't let their babies cry. Good mums soothe them immediately. If she's crying, I must be doing something wrong.

When I Finally Understood

My daughter is about nine months old, and every single time I leave the room (even just to grab laundry or put the kettle on) she starts crying. And I mean immediately. The second I'm out of sight, the crying starts.

And I panic every time. I drop whatever I'm doing and rush back in. "I'm here, I'm here, it's okay!" And she stops crying. Immediately. Relief floods through me. Crisis averted.

Except it's not averted. Because the next time I leave the room, she cries again. And I rush back again. And we're completely stuck in this loop where I feel like I can never leave her sight without her falling apart.

So one day, I need to get her water cup from the kitchen. And the second I leave the room, the crying starts. Loud. Immediate. And I feel that familiar panic rising in my chest, that urgent pull to run back.

But then I stop right there in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen. And I take a breath.

And instead of rushing back, I call out from the kitchen: "I hear you, sweetie. I'm just getting your water. I'll be right back."

The crying continues. But I don't rush. I walk to the counter. I pick up the water cup. I walk back calmly.

When I come back into the room, she's still crying. And every part of me wants to scoop her up, bounce her, make it stop. But I don't. I sit down beside her on the floor. I don't pick her up immediately. I sit there and say: "You didn't like it when I left. I can see that upset you. You're safe. I'm right here."

And then I just wait. My hand is on her back. I'm right there. But I'm not trying to make the crying stop.

It takes maybe two minutes. She cries, looks at me, and cries a bit more. Then she crawls into my lap. And the crying fades into sniffles, and then she's just calm and settled.

Over the next few weeks, the meltdowns became shorter. Less intense. She'd fuss when I left, but she could settle herself more quickly. And gradually, over time, she started to trust that when I left, I'd always come back.

What Was Really Happening

When I rushed back in a panic every time she cried, I was accidentally teaching her that crying equals an emergency. That being upset means something's wrong and Mum needs to fix it immediately.

But when I stayed calm and just held space for her feelings, "You're upset, and that's okay. I'm here," she learned something completely different. She learned that she can feel upset and still be safe. That Mum doesn't need to fix her. That she can get through this.

Babies don't cry to manipulate you. They cry to communicate. They cry when they're tired, when they're overwhelmed, when they're frustrated, when they're processing something big. And our job isn't always to stop the crying. Sometimes our job is just to be with them while they cry.

When we do validate their feelings instead of rushing to fix them, we teach them that emotions are safe. That they can feel big things and survive them. And that builds the foundation for emotional regulation later on.

What to Try With Your Baby

• Pause before you react. I know that's hard. Every part of you wants to make the crying stop. But take a breath. Ask yourself: Is my baby in danger, or are they just upset?
  If they're safe (if they're fed, clean, and not hurt) then what they need isn't a fix. What they need is your presence.

• Acknowledge their emotion out loud: "You sound upset. I'm here." Or "You're having a hard time right now. I see you."
  You're not dismissing their feelings. You're not saying "Don't cry" or "You're okay"… because clearly, they're not okay, they're crying. You're just letting them know: I see you, and I'm with you.

• Hold space without immediately trying to cheer them up. Sit beside them. Put your hand on their back. Hold them if they want to be held. But resist the urge to bounce, distract, or shush.
  Just be there. Let the emotion move through them.

It feels so counterintuitive at first. But I promise… the more you do this, the more you'll see: your baby doesn't need you to fix every feeling. They just need to know you're there while they feel it.

Shift 4: From Constant Stimulation to Slowing Down

The Over-Scheduled Baby

I had the Montessori setup at home… the low shelves, the carefully chosen materials, the prepared environment. But I also thought, he needs more than just being at home. He needs experiences. Opportunities. Stimulation.

So I signed us up for everything. Baby sensory class on Monday mornings. Music class on Wednesday afternoons. Mum and baby swimming on Fridays. And in between, I'd take him to the library for baby story time, or to soft play, or just out and about because I thought this is what good mums do. They give their babies every opportunity in the world.

I was a first-time mum, and I genuinely thought I was giving him a head start. Setting him up for success. Making sure he didn't miss out on anything.

The Day I Was Too Sick to "Do" Anything

It's a midweek morning, and I wake up feeling absolutely awful. Like, properly under the weather. My whole body aches, my head is pounding, and I just know… there's no way I can drag myself to baby sensory today.

So I cancel everything for the day. The class. The plans I'd made to meet a friend at the park. All of it.

And honestly, part of me feels guilty. Like I'm letting him down. Like I'm not doing enough.

But I don't have a choice. I'm barely functioning. So I set him up on the floor with what's already on his shelves and I just sit on the sofa with a cup of tea. I don't have the energy to narrate everything or try to engage him. He's playing nearby and I'm just sitting there.

And I'm expecting him to be fussy. To need me. To be bored because we're not doing anything.

But he's not fussy. He's quiet. He's focused.

He picks up one of the fabric balls from the shelf (this soft, rainbow-colored one) and he just sits there examining it. Turning it over in his hands. Squeezing it. Bringing it to his face. For maybe ten minutes. Just that one ball.

Then he drops it and notices the way it rolls slightly across the floor. So he picks it up and drops it again. And again. Watching it roll each time.

I'm just sitting there on the sofa, half-watching him, half-zoning out because I feel so rough. And I start to notice… he's not asking for my attention. He's not looking at me for validation or guidance. He's completely absorbed in what he's doing.

Later that afternoon, I put him down for a nap, expecting the usual fight… he's been a terrible napper for weeks, only sleeping for twenty or thirty minutes at a time. But he goes down easily. And he sleeps for two hours. Two hours!

When he wakes up, he's calm. Happy. And his awake window that afternoon is the longest, most peaceful one we've had in ages. He's not fussy. He's not overstimulated. He's just... content.

I've been exhausting him. All those classes, all those activities, all that stimulation. I thought I was giving him opportunities, but really I was just overwhelming him. He didn't need more. He needed less.

Why Babies Need Space to Just Be

Babies don't actually need constant stimulation. And too much input is overwhelming for them. It makes it harder for them to focus, harder for them to settle, harder for them to just exist without needing something happening all the time.

What babies really crave in that first year is just space. Space to notice things, to repeat things over and over, to wonder about the world around them. They need stillness and quiet… not all the time, but they need it. They need the chance to sit with one object for ten minutes and really explore it, instead of being shuffled from one activity to the next.

And when you give them that space, they actually build longer attention spans. They learn how to focus deeply. They develop this confidence that they can figure things out on their own without you having to direct every moment of their day.

Creating Space for Stillness

• Turn off background noise. No TV in the background. No music unless you're intentionally listening together. No constant narration. Let silence linger.
  I know it feels weird at first. We're so used to filling every moment with sound. But babies need quiet to process. They need space to hear their own thoughts, to notice subtle sounds… the hum of the fridge, birds outside, their own breathing.

• You don't need to sign up for everything. One or two activities a week is more than enough. And honestly? Some weeks, nothing is okay too. Your baby doesn't need to be constantly entertained or stimulated. They need downtime just as much as you do.

• When you're at home, resist the urge to constantly engage. If they're sitting there quietly, observing, focused on something… don't interrupt. Don't feel like you need to show them a new toy or start a new activity. Just let them explore whatever has caught their interest.

Some of the richest learning actually happens in those simple, quiet moments when we're not trying so hard and we're just letting our babies be.

Shift 5: The Foundation That Makes Everything Else Possible

The Most Important Shift of All

Here's what I need to tell you: You can have the perfect Montessori setup. The most beautiful shelves, the most thoughtfully chosen materials, all the knowledge about observation and following the child. But if you're running on empty, none of it works.

Because the most important thing to prepare isn't the environment… it's yourself.

My Breaking Point

It's been one of those nights. My son woke up three times. And the third time, at 4:30am, he just refused to go back to sleep. I tried everything (feeding, rocking, walking around with him) but he was wide awake. So we're up. At 4:30 in the morning.

By the time morning actually comes, I'm barely functioning. I'm loading up on caffeine just trying to make it to his first nap. That's all I'm thinking about… just get him to the first nap, and then I can rest too.

Finally, finally, after what feels like forever, I get him down. I rock him, he settles, I put him in his cot. And I'm so relieved. I tiptoe out of the room and I start tidying things up quickly… just enough so I can lie down without feeling guilty about the mess.

I'm about to lie down on the sofa when I hear it. Crying.

I look at my phone. It's been fifteen minutes. Fifteen. Minutes.

And I honestly lose it. I walk into his room and I start shouting at my baby. I'm shouting at a baby who can't help that he woke up, who doesn't understand why I'm upset. And I know, even as I'm doing it, that it's not helping. It's not going to make him sleep. It's not going to make me feel better. But I can't stop because I'm so tapped out.

And then I feel this crushing guilt. Like, what kind of mother shouts at her baby? What is wrong with me?

I'm standing there, he's crying louder now, and I realise… I can't do this. I physically cannot function right now.

That day, luckily, my husband was in town. He got home early, and I just handed the baby over. I didn't explain, I didn't wait… I just said "I need to sleep", and I went to our room and collapsed.

I slept for one hour. That's it. Just one hour.

But when I woke up, everything was different. I came out, and my son was playing on the floor. My husband was sitting nearby. And I felt... calm. Refreshed. Like I could actually be there for my baby in a real way, not just surviving the day.

The Prepared Adult: Why This Matters Most

We talk so much in Montessori about the prepared environment. The low shelves, the carefully chosen materials, the calm space. But there's something that matters even more… the prepared adult.

If you're exhausted, overstimulated, running on no sleep, feeling frustrated and alone, none of the other stuff works. You can't observe your child when you're barely keeping your eyes open. You can't respond calmly when you're at your breaking point. You can't create a peaceful environment when you're falling apart inside.

It's not about being perfect. It's about being regulated enough to be present. And sometimes that means putting your baby somewhere safe and stepping away for a few minutes to catch your breath. Sometimes it means asking for help. Sometimes it means letting the dishes sit in the sink so you can nap when the baby naps… even if it's only for fifteen minutes.

Your kids don't need you to do Montessori perfectly. They don't need the perfect setup or the perfect routine. They need you to be okay. They need you to be calm enough to respond to them, present enough to see them. They need you happy, not perfect.

Taking Care of Yourself First

• Check in with yourself before you check in with your baby. When you wake up in the morning, or before you sit down to observe, or when you feel yourself getting overwhelmed… pause and ask: How am I actually doing right now? Am I hungry? Exhausted? Touched out
  You can't be present for your baby if you don't know what you need.

• It's okay to step away. If you feel yourself losing it, put your baby somewhere safe (their cot, a play pen, a safe floor space) and step into another room. Take five minutes. Breathe. Cry if you need to. Eat something. Splash water on your face. Whatever you need to regulate.
  Your baby will be okay for five minutes. And you coming back calm is better than staying and losing it.

• Ask for help when you need it. Whether that's your partner, a family member, a friend, or even just posting in a mum group to vent. You don't have to do this alone. And needing help doesn't make you a bad mum… it makes you human.

The prepared adult is the foundation everything else is built on. If you're not okay, nothing else works. Take care of yourself first, because that's what makes everything else possible.

What I Wish I'd Known From the Start

If you took anything away from this, I hope it's this: Montessori isn't about recreating Pinterest-perfect shelves or buying specific toys. It's not a curriculum you follow. It's a way of seeing your child.

It's about trusting that your baby is capable. Observing before you intervene. Respecting their focus instead of interrupting it. And showing up for them even when, especially when, you're not perfect.

Remember how I said I spent £800 on Montessori toys before my son was born? Here's what I wish I'd spent that money on instead… honestly, nothing. Or maybe a night nanny service for those first few months, so I could actually rest.

Because it turns out, babies don't need expensive materials. They need you. Present, calm, and regulated.

So if you're sitting here thinking you need to go buy more things or set everything up differently, you don't.

Just pick one shift. Maybe it's stepping back and observing for ten minutes. Maybe it's turning off the background noise. Maybe it's just checking in with yourself before you check in with your baby.

One shift. That's all.

What shift resonated most with you? I'd love to hear in the comments below.