Not all babies are cute, but all babies are sweet

aphorism (n): a concise statement of a truth or sentiment

This has long been a saying my family: Not all babies are cute, but all babies are sweet.

And it is true. Take a jaunt around your local grocery and you will find ample evidence of this. Tucked in carriers and propped up in cart seats are the product of humanity, an unfortunate number looking like the wrong end of a turnip.

It’s no fault of theirs. They did not ask to be born with runny noses and vacant stares. A blessing, that they are not self-aware enough to be envious of those who won the genetic lottery.

However, no matter how off-putting you find children in general or one specimen in particular, you always have an answer when your colleague demands you admire some relation’s spawn and you are confronted with something akin to a deep-sea horror:

“Oh! What a sweet baby.”

Because let’s be honest. Newborns look like sunburned octogenarians. Babies are moist. Toddlers are sticky.

I have objectively adorable children, and I find them repulsive on a regular basis. Have you smelled their feet?

So, no, Renae, your kids are not cute. Give it up.

But all babies are sweet. Every single one. Every chunky baby thigh, every burbly giggle, every toothless smile.

Just save up for the orthodontist. You’re going to need it.