The Cuteness Factor

After sort of lounging around in his bed awake for two hours from 2AM to 4AM that morning – Oxbear resting next to him – Yali woke up still teething hard and working through a low-grade fever, presumably a result of his Tuesday afternoon vaccinations.

It was going to be one of those crotchety sort of mornings.

By the afternoon, Yali’s fever climbed past the 101 mark, but he was cheerful since late morning (playing in the sink always helps), hungry, and amused by the arrival of neighbor kids, including Eddie, recently returned from Boy Scout camp.

“Aww!” Anna couldn’t help herself. “He’s just so cute! He’s from Colombia? I think I’ve been there before.”

I didn’t bother to explain the difference between Columbia, Missouri, and Colombia, South America. Mostly because the conversation immediately shifted topic. Sometimes it’s best to let kids think what they want to think.

Meanwhile, Oxbear had been slammed with one of his once-or-twice yearly sinus headaches that only reacts to Sudafed. He was down for most of the day. Once the medication kicked in, however, he was feeling well enough to make a pot of chili in the Dutch oven. I can always tell he’s feeling better if he’s up to fixing food.

So I took Yali on his second walk of the day in Puck’s old stroller – a couple of frayed holes in the fabric by this time – while Puck ran around outside with Eddie.

This is where I realized the cuteness factor transcended continents. We don’t live in an unfriendly neighborhood by any stretch of the imagination. However, I could tell that something was a little different this time around.

“Good afternoon,” a young man in his mid-twenties nodded to me on his way to the mailbox.

A high school boy with long hair whizzed by on his bike and waved hello.

But it wasn’t until the middle school boy – also with long hair – peddled past us with a big grin on his face, that I understood what was going down. “That’s a cute kid!” he told me, as if making a proclamation to whomever was in listening distance, including a buddy riding right behind him.

I know when the junior high boys aren’t afraid to acknowledge baby cuteness that I must be dealing with an unusual specimen.

Anna came running down the street to greet us on our way back, with a buddy to meet Yali.

“Aww! He’s so cute!”

I hoped it wouldn’t go to his head.