I think James looks just like a little baby doll. Like a baby doll, and like his brothers. He is sodangcute!
Before I had kids I had a great theory. I decided I wouldn't call my kids cute. You know, so their self-esteem would be based on things that are real and long-lasting, not ficle and fading.
When I had baby Mademoiselle, the theory went flying out the window. She was too cute, and I had to coo or squeal about the cuteness just about every time I looked at her. She's heard "cute, cute, CUTE!" probably every day of her life. That's like 8,544 times, at least. I thinks the day she realizes she hasn't heard it might be a sad day.
That's what I was trying to avoid. In my child-less wisdom, I thought it would be easier leave my kids ignorant of their cuteness, so there would be no remorse for them if they some day grew out of it. They couldn't miss what they didn't know they had, right?
Oh well. It turns out it was really just easier to succumb to the cuteness and let them deal with the consequences of our indulgence later.