Temperament and personality

Children arrive with a disposition already in place. It is not produced by upbringing, it shows up in the first weeks, and it is substantially stable — which is the finding behind a great deal of unnecessary parental guilt and a certain amount of unnecessary parental credit.

Two things follow. The reassuring one is that a baby who is hard to settle is not evidence about anybody. The useful one is an idea called goodness of fit: what predicts how things go is less the temperament itself than whether it matches what is being asked of it — and the part that can usually be adjusted is the asking.

What follows is the dimensions the research describes, the three familiar categories and the third of children who fit none of them, what changes as a child grows and what does not, and why putting a name to a child's temperament is the one move worth avoiding.

Where the idea comes from

Alexander Thomas and Stella Chess began following a group of children in 1956 and kept following them into adult life. What they found was a set of consistent individual differences visible in the first months, not explained by how the children were being brought up, and still recognisable years later.

They described nine dimensions. The value of the list is not in scoring a child against it but in having words for things parents notice and cannot name:

  • Activity level — how much movement there is, awake and asleep.
  • Rhythmicity — how regular sleeping, feeding and the rest turn out to be. Some babies arrive on a timetable and some never do.
  • Approach or withdrawal — the very first reaction to anything new, before any thinking about it.
  • Adaptability — how readily that first reaction shifts afterwards, which is a separate question from what the first reaction was.
  • Intensity of reaction — the volume everything is expressed at, delight as much as objection.
  • Threshold of responsiveness — how much of something is needed before it registers. Noise, a label in a collar, a wet sock, a light left on.
  • Quality of mood — the baseline setting, from sunny through to serious.
  • Distractibility — how easily attention can be diverted. An asset in a crying baby and an obstacle in a nine-year-old with homework, and the same trait either way.
  • Attention span and persistence — how long a child stays with something that has stopped being easy.

Two of those are worth separating deliberately, because they are routinely confused. A child's first reaction to a new thing and their willingness to come round to it are independent. A child can recoil from everything and still settle within minutes, and another can seem game and then dig in for a fortnight.

The three categories, and the third of children who are none of them

From those dimensions, three clusters were described, and they have been repeated ever since:

  • Easy — around 40 per cent. Adapts quickly, is settled, soothes readily.
  • Slow to warm up — around 15 per cent. Lower activity, cautious with anything new, comes round given time.
  • Difficult — around 10 per cent. Reacts strongly against new situations and against routine, slow to adapt, intense.

Which leaves roughly 35 per cent of children in no category at all — and that is the most useful figure on the page, routinely left out of every summary. More children fail to fit the three types than fit the two smaller ones combined. The clusters are a rough shorthand for a pattern across a population, not a set of boxes that children come in.

The word "difficult" also deserves unpicking, since it is a term from the 1950s describing how a set of traits lands on the adults nearby rather than anything about the child's merits. Intense, irregular, slow to adapt and quick to react is a genuinely hard combination to live with in a two-year-old. It is also, in an adult, a reasonable description of someone with strong opinions and real staying power who knows what they do not like.

Goodness of fit

This was Thomas and Chess's own conclusion and it is the part worth carrying away. What predicts how a child does is less their temperament in isolation than the match between that temperament and what their surroundings demand of it.

The useful consequence is that the adjustable side of the equation is usually the demand rather than the child:

  • A slow-to-warm-up child put straight into a room of strangers will have a bad time, and the same child allowed ten minutes at the edge first will often join in. The change needed is arriving early, not a different child.
  • A high-activity child asked to sit still for long stretches is being asked for the one thing they are worst at. Where movement is built into the day, the same child is unremarkable.
  • A child with a low sensory threshold who cannot bear a seam or a label is not being awkward about clothes. That is the dimension doing what it does.

None of which is indulgence. The child still goes to the party, still sits through dinner, still wears clothes. The adjustment is to the approach rather than to the expectation, which is the distinction that keeps goodness of fit from collapsing into giving up.

The fit works both ways, and it includes the adults. A fast-moving, intense parent with a cautious, slow-adapting child is a real mismatch, and so is the reverse. That is nobody's failing, it is two dispositions that happen to grate, and naming it privately tends to help more than trying harder.

What changes and what does not

Temperament is moderately stable rather than fixed. The underlying reactivity tends to persist; what develops is the capacity to manage it. A baby who cries at every disruption does not turn into a placid child, but a six-year-old has strategies no baby has, and most of those strategies were learned from an adult supplying them first.

Personality is what gets built on top. The raw material is the temperament; the construction is years of experience, and particularly of close relationships. Which is why a stable starting point is not a sentence — the same disposition can end up as anxiety or as carefulness, as volatility or as conviction, and the difference is largely in what happened around it.

There is a practical argument here too. Traits that are stable are predictable, and predictable traits can be planned around. A parent who knows that their child needs a long run-up to anything new has something genuinely useful, in a way that a parent waiting for the phase to pass does not.

The orchid question

A more recent line of research reframes high reactivity in a way worth knowing. Rather than treating sensitivity as straightforward vulnerability, it finds that some children are simply more affected by their surroundings than others — and in both directions. Worse than average in a harsh or chaotic environment, and better than average in a supportive one. Dandelion and orchid is the popular shorthand.

If that holds, the implication inverts the usual reading of a demanding child. The children who are hardest to raise are often the ones for whom the effort makes the most difference, and the evidence from intervention studies points the same way, with the most reactive children tending to gain the most.

One honest caveat. The tidy division of people into low, medium and high sensitivity groups, with proportions attached, comes from research on adults, so those figures should not be read across to children. The underlying pattern has support in work with children; the neat three-way split is not a finding about them.

On testing, and on labels

Proper temperament questionnaires exist and are used in research and occasionally in clinical work. An online quiz is not one of them, and a label picked up from one arrives with the authority of a magazine horoscope and the staying power of a diagnosis.

The real hazard is not that such a result is inaccurate. It is that it sticks. A child described within earshot as the difficult one, or the shy one, or the sensitive one, is being told who they are by the person whose opinion carries the most weight in their life, and children tend to oblige. Temperament describes a tendency to behave in certain ways; a label describes a person, and the second is a much harder thing to grow out of.

Nothing useful here requires a test in any case. The observations are already in hand after a few months of living with a child. The questions worth asking are plain ones: what is the first reaction to anything new, how long does it take to shift, how loud is everything, how regular is the day, and what can this child genuinely not tolerate. Those are answerable from memory, and the answers are what goodness of fit is built from.

Where temperament stops being the right frame is when something is preventing ordinary life — a child not managing school at all, not sleeping, unable to be left, or in distress that does not settle. That is worth raising with a health visitor or GP, and the useful conversation there will not be about temperament.

The other half of this question — how much of what looks like the effect of parenting is actually the child shaping the parent — is covered under parenting styles. For the age at which temperament makes itself felt most forcefully, toddler tantrums.

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