“Oh my goodness! She’s just SO precious!”
I don’t even need to glance up from the cereal box I’m inspecting to know which of my three daughters has caught the attention of the woman in the grocery aisle.
“Where does she get that fiery red hair? And those enormous brown eyes…” Her voice drifts off as she gazes at my little one, mesmerized by her stunning features. “Well, red hair is a recessive trait, so both my husband and I must have it somewhere in our ancestry,” I reply, attempting to be courteous while suppressing the urge to roll my eyes—I’ve had this exact conversation just ten minutes ago, and I’m sure it won’t be the last before I finish my shopping.
I glance over at my other two daughters, who sport caramel locks and lighter eyes—definitely taking after me and my husband. But my middle child? She looks like a cartoon cherub, almost too adorable to be real.
The compliments about her beauty started the moment she was born, with nurses cooing over her, and they haven’t stopped since.
It’s a constant barrage everywhere we go. Seriously, everywhere!
“She’s just… well, I’ve never seen a baby so flawless!”
“She should be on magazine covers!”
“She’s definitely the cutest of the bunch, and she knows it!”
Don’t get me wrong—each of my daughters is beautiful in her own way, but that one… My middle daughter gets away with things the others don’t. Teachers and adults often make assumptions about her personality based solely on her cuteness. “What a sweetie, and so clever!” they’ll exclaim while she’s picking her nose in church.
She’s often chosen for leading roles in school plays, engages in more conversations than her siblings, and during my blogging events, PR folks are always pulling her aside for photos.
This is all new for me—a child whose appearance stops people in their tracks. As comedian Amy Poehler would say, my charm used to be my personality. Back in my single days, I would hang out near the restroom while my friends snagged free drinks, only to swoop in and become the designated conversationalist, ensuring poor guys didn’t stick around too long.
Now, don’t get me wrong—being a tad below average in looks isn’t all bad. I developed a sparkling personality to make friends, my parents never had to worry about me announcing a teenage pregnancy, and I’ve probably saved a fortune on pageant outfits. But let’s face it—life tends to be easier for those who are considered beautiful. Whether it’s dating, making friends, or even landing a job, attractiveness often works in your favor. In fact, a 2013 study by Business Insider showed that good-looking job applicants were 24% more likely to receive callbacks than their less attractive counterparts.
However, this has led to some odd situations with my daughter. I’ve had people jokingly offer to buy her (I think), and I’ve been asked if they could snap her picture (ummm, no thanks), and I’ve even caught people discreetly filming her (they’re now resting comfortably in shallow graves).
I find myself unsure of how to navigate this as a parent. I appreciate the compliments, but I don’t want her to develop an inflated ego or, even worse, make my other two daughters feel insecure about their own beauty. Do I downplay her looks? “Wow! She’s adorable!”
“Meh, I’ve seen cuter kids.”
Do I spotlight my other daughters? “Look how healthy their gums are!” while showcasing their shiny coats like show dogs? For now, I guess I’ll just keep smiling, say thank you, and explain the basics of genetics to random strangers. But one day, I’m definitely teaching them how to work together to score free drinks.
If you’re interested in other parenting insights, check out this excellent resource on what to expect during your first IUI. And speaking of resources, for those exploring home insemination, you can find a great guide on artificial insemination kits here!
In summary, navigating the dynamics of raising a child who stands out in beauty can be both a blessing and a challenge. It’s essential to appreciate the compliments while ensuring all children feel valued for their unique qualities—not just their looks.