The Politics of Cute

Constantly someone is lecturing me about humility but it’s tough when you’ve got a smile like mine. At every opportunity when I see a mirror, I have to practice how to smile in the event someone makes a funny face, how to act shy when someone wants to pinch my cheeks and how to laugh hysterically when someone attempts humour. This is all a grand rite of passage for a 14-month-old baby.
Let’s be honest, baby puppies are precious. Little kittens playing with big balls of blue wool are adorable. But let’s cut to the chase, I’m cute. Can Gribouille put his hair in a little Pebbles-esque style? I think not. And even if he could, would anyone stop and think to themselves, “Wow what a cute grey cat with his hair styled in such a fashionable way.” But look at me, don’t you just want to melt. Looking cute is only half the battle, it’s all about acting the part as well. It is critical to have that panache that can carry you in those moments when your hair style just won’t win over a tough crowd. That’s why I’ve perfected the smile and head nod. It sends adults into full belly laughs. Or, when I run through my growing vocabulary repertoire, I can impress even the most jaded individual.

Look around, Piglet wears pink well, but he doesn’t carry it off with my razzle-dazzle. Tigger has lots of energy, but over extended periods of time he can’t capture and keep the attention of parents and adults like I can when I’m in my zone. Winnie the Pooh can teach us a lot about positive body image, but I can teach more about having fun. Eeyore, well, Eeyore needs to lighten up. Caillou, well the kid has all sorts of adventures, but he doesn’t have any hair. Like, what’s up with that? And let’s be honest, all the birds in my books aren’t very bright. Let’s be serious, does a dog really look like a bird? And aren’t owls supposed to be smart? Of course their mother will come back with food, so Percy, Sarah and Bill just chill out a bit.
With each passing day, I’m getting more confident on my feet and that is causing adults to stop and watch me. I can push myself onto my feet and bring up my torso into a standing position. At that point waves of euphoria wash over me and it is around that point when I tumble over onto my diaper. But for those fleeting moments, I am the epicentre of attention.

Grabbing onto legs is turning into a growing sport for me. As maman or papa (or Belle) walk by, I can pivot, push myself from the surface I’m propped up onto at that point and take the plunge for my parents (or pets). It is so much fun, I’m sure you need a licence for it.