I was at the farmers’ market a few weeks back—the same one Matt and I hit up every weekend—when I noticed something that made me pause mid-apple selection.
A mom was crouched down at eye level with her toddler who’d just dropped his snack. Instead of rushing him along or sighing in frustration, she waited.
Just…waited. Let him process his disappointment, pick up what he could, and move on when he was ready.
Most people wouldn’t have noticed this tiny moment. But I did. And honestly? That’s when it hit me: some of us are just wired to see the things others miss.
After seven years teaching kindergarten, I learned that the most telling moments aren’t the big, obvious ones. They’re in the pauses, the micro-expressions, the tiny choices people make when they think no one’s paying attention.
Want to know if you’re more perceptive than most? Here are seven small details that truly observant people pick up on—and what they reveal about human nature.
1) How they talk about people who aren’t in the room
There’s this mom in my babysitting co-op who never, ever speaks poorly about anyone behind their back. Even when the conversation drifts toward gossip, she finds something kind or constructive to say.
The first time I noticed it, I thought maybe she just didn’t have opinions. But then I realized: she has plenty of opinions. She just chooses not to express them through tearing others down.
Here’s what I’ve learned—how someone talks about absent people tells you everything about their character. Are they generous in their interpretations? Do they give people the benefit of the doubt? Or do they immediately jump to criticism and judgment?
This is especially revealing in parenting circles. I’ve watched how some parents talk about their kids’ teachers, coaches, or other families. The ones who consistently speak with respect and empathy, even when frustrated? Those are the people I want in my corner.
Ellie’s five now, and she’s already picking up on this. The other day she said, “Mama, why does that lady always say mean things about people who leave?” Out of the mouths of babes, right?
If you notice this pattern in others—and check yourself on it too—you’re operating at a higher level of social awareness.
2) The way someone’s body language shifts when certain topics come up
During my teaching days, I could always tell which kids were struggling at home. Not because they said anything outright, but because their whole body would tense when we talked about families or weekends.
Their shoulders would creep up toward their ears. They’d start fidgeting with their pencils. Sometimes they’d go completely still, like deer sensing danger.
That skill didn’t disappear when I left the classroom. Now I notice it everywhere—at playdates, community events, even during evening check-ins with Matt. “How was your day really?” we ask each other after the kids are asleep. And I watch. Not in a weird, invasive way, but with genuine attention. Does he lean in or pull back? Do his hands relax or clench?
Body language is the truth-teller. As psychologist Albert Mehrabian famously found, 93% of communication has nothing to with the words we say. People can control their words, but their bodies? Much harder.
When you start noticing these micro-shifts—the crossed arms, the forced smile, the way someone’s eyes dart away—you gain access to what people are actually feeling beneath what they’re saying.
3) Small acts of kindness when no one’s watching
Last month, I saw something that stuck with me. I was cleaning up after one of our monthly craft playdates, and I glanced out the window just as one of the dads was leaving.
He paused at the sidewalk, bent down, and moved a worm that was stranded on the concrete back into the grass. Took maybe five seconds. No one else saw it. He had no audience.
That moment told me more about his character than any conversation could have.
Why? True kindness happens when there’s nothing to gain.
The person who picks up trash that isn’t theirs. The one who returns the shopping cart to the corral. The parent who speaks gently to their child in the parking lot when they’re clearly exhausted and no one else is around.
I grew up watching my mom do this constantly—small, quiet acts of care that shaped how I see the world. She’d leave extra change at the community garden’s honor box. She’d always have spare snacks for any kid who looked hungry.
If you notice these moments in others, you’re seeing beneath the social performance to who they actually are.
4) How they respond when a child is upset or frustrated
Nothing reveals someone’s emotional intelligence faster than watching them interact with a struggling kid.
Do they rush in to fix it immediately? Do they dismiss the feelings as overreactions? Or do they pause, get down on the child’s level, and make space for the emotion?
Milo’s two, which means he has approximately seven hundred meltdowns per day. (Okay, slight exaggeration, but you get it.) And I pay attention to how other adults respond when he loses it in public.
Some people look at him with annoyance or judgment. Others ignore him entirely. But the really perceptive ones? They catch my eye with a knowing smile. Sometimes they offer a quiet, “We’ve all been there.”
These are the people who understand that behavior is communication. That a tantrum isn’t manipulation—it’s a nervous system overwhelmed by big feelings and a tiny body.
Psychologist Dr. Dan Siegel talks about “connection before correction“—meeting children where they are emotionally before trying to teach them anything. The people who naturally do this with kids? They’re usually emotionally intelligent across the board.
5) The space they give in conversation
Ever notice how some people monopolize every conversation while others create room for everyone to speak?
I’m naturally more of a listener, partly because I’m a recovering people-pleaser (thanks, middle-child syndrome) and partly because I learned from teaching that silence can be more powerful than words.
My go-to phrase with Ellie and Milo is “tell me more.” And then I wait. I don’t jump in to finish their thoughts or redirect the conversation back to myself.
It’s amazing how rare this is in adult conversations.
Some people treat dialogue like a competition. They’re not listening—they’re just waiting for their turn to talk. They interrupt, redirect every story back to themselves, or dismiss others’ experiences.
But truly perceptive people? They create space. They ask follow-up questions. They remember details from earlier conversations and bring them up later. They notice when someone’s trying to speak and hasn’t found an opening.
6) Changes in energy when walking into a room
Some people light up a space. Others seem to drain it. And the most perceptive among us can sense this shift within seconds.
I’m not talking about anything mystical—just basic emotional attunement. When someone walks into our kitchen (which is always slightly chaotic, always smells like something baking or fermenting), I can immediately tell what they’re bringing with them.
Is there tension in their shoulders? Are they making eye contact or looking everywhere but at people? Does the conversation flow differently once they arrive?
This skill has roots in survival instinct. Our ancestors needed to quickly assess whether newcomers were threats or allies. We’ve kept that ability, even if we don’t always acknowledge it.
I learned this particularly well as a teacher. You can tell within the first thirty seconds of a parent-teacher conference how it’s going to go, just based on how the parent enters the room.
Some researchers call this emotional intelligence—the ability to perceive and understand emotions in yourself and others. It’s not about being psychic. It’s about paying attention to the subtle cues most people tune out.
When you notice these energy shifts, you can respond more appropriately. You know when to give someone space, when to ask if they’re okay, or when to lighten the mood.
7) How they handle being corrected or proven wrong
Not so long ago, I mixed up two different parenting approaches in an article I was writing. A reader (kindly) pointed out my error in the comments.
My first instinct? Defensiveness. My ego wanted to explain it away or justify the mistake.
But I’ve been working on this. So instead, I thanked her, corrected the article, and moved on.
Here’s what I’ve noticed: how someone responds to being wrong reveals everything about their character and self-awareness.
Some people double down, argue, make excuses. They need to protect their ego more than they need to be accurate or grow.
Others get defensive but eventually come around. They need time to process before they can admit error.
And then there are those rare folks who say, “You’re right, thank you for correcting me,” and genuinely mean it. No drama, no ego protection, just a commitment to being better.
I’m still learning this one. My strict upbringing taught me that mistakes were shameful, so admitting them feels vulnerable. But I’m practicing—especially in front of Ellie, who watches everything I do.
If you notice how people handle being wrong, and if you’re working on handling it with more grace yourself, you’re developing a level of self-awareness most people never reach.
Final thoughts
Being perceptive isn’t about judging people or collecting information to use against them. It’s about understanding the world at a deeper level—seeing the unspoken, noticing the nuances, reading between the lines.
These seven details I’ve shared? They’re not magic tricks. They’re simply the result of paying attention. Of being present enough to notice what’s actually happening rather than getting lost in your own head.
Since leaving teaching and diving into this wild parenting adventure, I’ve realized that observation is a muscle. The more you use it, the stronger it gets.
Some days I nail it. Other days I’m so exhausted from breaking up sibling squabbles and scraping playdough off the floor that I barely notice anything beyond survival mode.
And that’s okay. Progress, not perfection, right?
But on the days when I do pay attention—when I notice the small acts of kindness, the body language shifts, the way someone creates space in conversation—life feels richer. More connected. More real.
So next time you’re at the farmers’ market, the playground, or just having coffee with a friend, try tuning in to these small details. You might be surprised by what you see.
