I suspect that if hunger, thirst, and fatigue were perfectly mixed, I could be on fire and one of my kids might still ask me for milk. “I can’t do that right now, I’m on fire.” “But I want milk! Pleeeeasssse?” “Ok, Ok, I’ll get the milk and THEN extinguish myself.”
It makes no sense, but it’s the only way our species can survive. It’s as if my love for them was soldered onto my brain like hunger and fatigue. “Did you just try to poke my eye out? Come back here and give me a giant hug.” The fact that they’re cute definitely has something to do with it, but I know they might only be cute to me.