When cuteness trumps tantrums, at least I can laugh

The science of cute.

That’s the title of an episode in “Bright Now,” a documentary available on Curiosity Stream that I watched more than a year ago but which still stands out in my mind.

I see it everywhere. When my dogs saunter over, expecting a handout, there’s the slight downward tilt of their heads and the large “puppy dog” eyes that seem to stare right into your soul. It’s an innate ability to showcase “cuteness” through a display of basic manipulation: They want something that I have.

But, it’s not only dogs.

Lately, I’ve seen it in my 2 1/2-year-olds. One of their favorite activities (aside from playing outside) is to “help” in the kitchen. When it’s time to make dinner, they scramble to grab their chairs and bring them to the counter so they can reach. They especially like to stir or whisk and add in the spices. But, if they can’t keep their hands to themselves, they can’t help.

Once that boundary has been set and subsequently overstepped, the science of cute comes out. I’ll suddenly feel a shirt tug or my leg being enwrapped by toddler hands in a giant squeeze. Anything, really, to get my attention before the kissing noises begin. Puckered faces, upturned, they hope that it’s enough to get back in the game.

I’m not sure what I was expecting, then, when I brought my sons to campus so that they could participate in the petting zoo. As part of the festivities of spring homecoming, a small petting zoo was set up, ostensibly in an attempt to alleviate the stress of students. But I took it as an opportunity for my kids.

The only thing is I hadn’t exactly thought it through. The twins love their stuffies; more accurately, they love anything soft and fuzzy. Our dogs, blankets, pillows – they are certainly creatures of comfort.

They’re also in the “mine” stage of toddlerhood, which is that moment when they understand possession and the power of asserting control over what they deem theirs.

So, at the first sight of the rabbit, they were intrigued. And then they realized that they could pet and hold the rabbit. Shrieks of joy, coupled with “oohs” over the softness of the fur, soon gave way to exclamations of “mine, mine.”

Eyes upturned expectantly at me, followed by the kissing noises and wet kisses given to the rabbit. The science of cute.

No, we did not take home the rabbit, and we certainly have no plans of getting a bunny anytime soon. You can imagine, dear reader, the sight and sounds that ensued.

We didn’t teach them this “science.” Instead, it seems that cuteness is a natural trait, and one that toddlers, in particular, have mastered during the Terrible 2s.

As I pulled everyone back to the car, the only thing I could think as I rode out the tantrum wave: “At least they’re cute.”

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