Hear Ye, Hear Ye!

My daughter is an independent human who is temporarily dependent on her guardians for sustenance, safety, and security while she grows. She also happens to be objectively cute.

I see through the façade of cute.

Cute does not render her as a toy for entertainment.

Cute does not cut her into a puzzle to reconfigure or solve.

Cute does not stuff her like a doll to coddle, squeeze, manipulate, poke at, or toss about.

I repeat: my daughter is an autonomous, whole being worthy of respect, compassion, and personal boundaries. My daughter has her own areas of interest to pursue, and that list includes the right to be, à la simply exist.

She demonstrates frustration to physical interference, and she exudes varying levels of intolerance to interruptions of any kind. She gives clear cues in her own developing ways, regardless of her success in communication, or our success in understanding her communication.

Did she avert her gaze when you broke into her line of sight? Did she turn her head in the opposite direction when you got too close for her comfort? Did her disposition change from content to crying when you picked her up? As the more experienced with cause and effect, it’s on us to observe her signals and respond appropriately.

Meanwhile, her behavior is neither a personal affront nor any of your business. My infant daughter hasn’t yet been indoctrinated to any social code of conduct. She’s not polite; she’s busy following her bliss.

You think she ought to give you her valuable attention just because you think she’s cute? My daughter owes nothing to anyone. Her size, relative to whomever, obligates her deference to nobody. Appealing to me won’t get you any closer. I don’t take her cuteness as a compliment. Your declared opinion, however sweet, is not a hall pass for handling her.

You might say, dear reader, that this is what I’d wished someone had said on my behalf, per my lifelong experience as a perceivably adorable, nice little girl. (Ahem, even as I approach my mid-40s, that phenomenon has yet to abate).

Therefore, I will never stop saying everything written here on my daughter’s behalf. At least not until she decides when it’s time for me to put down my megaphone.