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 Image bymdcarpe01 My friend Emily was watching me watch Lulu. That rascal puppy had just shredded a roll of toilet paper and left mountains of white fluff all over the bathroom and laundry room. Emily offered to clean it up, but I told her to wait.I really want to get a picture of this,I said as I went looking for my camera. Ems laughed and asked if there was anything that this puppy could do that would make me angry with her. Well, no, there isn't. Because she's so stinkin' cute that I can't stand it. Even though my kids would probably deny it, they got away with all sorts of naughtiness when they were little and cute too. (Not that they're not cute now. Sorry guys.) But I went looking for my camera more times than I can count as those sweet little kids' faces looked at me over every kind of mischief possible. Like the time that my three year old daughter bolted from our church pew one Sunday and took a victory lap around the altar during a service, her brand new patent leather shoes tapping loudly on the marble floor with every little step. Every grandmother in the congregation stopped me after Mass to pat her on the head. One even told me that my daughter's performance that morning added another element of "pure joy" to the service. Daughter smiled innocently, playing the adorable cherub part perfectly. What a player. Cuteness evokes an Awwww response that will grant the said cute offender the ultimate Get Out Of Jail card. Lethal cuteness renders most people helpless and unable to work up even the most feebleNow Stop Thatattempt. See, this paralyzing cute effect is what is seriously lacking in autoimmune disease. There's nothing sweet or photogenic in any of it's effects. Nobody croonsHow cuuuuuuuute!as I gulp down a mountain of pills, pick away eye crusties, or slather handfuls of moisturizer on flakey dry skin every morning. Nobody smiles indulgently at me as I accumulate dozens of empty water bottles wherever I go, or as I trot to the bathroom at routine intervals. Not surprisingly, no squeals of enjoyment are responses to my brain-fog babbling. Funny how my spotty erythema nodosum is never referred to as a boo-boo and accompanied by a pat on the head.Did poor Julia-kins get a nasty boo boo? Yes she did, oh yes she did! I could deal with autoimmune disease much better if I could look in the mirror and see any kind of cuteness linked with Sjogren's syndrome. Maybe if I strapped on a brand new pair of patent leather shoes.......  |
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