Tonight, I'm coloring my gray. (Shhhhhhhh! It's a secret.) Isabel's on her little step-stool watching me and asks "Can I color my hair?" I say no, that it's for women and not little girls. She nods.
She then reaches for the bottom hem of my yucky hair-coloring shirt, pulls it up, and sees my butterfly tattoo on my hip. "Mommy's butterfly is on her tummy." She then pulls up her shirt, looks down and says "I don't have a butterfly. Hmm, I wonder where it is. Let's go FIND IT!" and off she runs.
I have a friend who was a step-dad to two boys. The boy's mom took them on vacation to Mexico one Spring Break...and got them tattoos. Tattoos. They were 14 and 17 at the time. Fourteen & 17?? And you let them get a tattoo? When I heard this I said "What?!?! What the hell? He's 14! Like he even KNOWS what he wants on his body say, 20 years from now!! What is wrong with her?" My guy friend is in his 40's and he never got a tattoo because he could never decide on anything. My friend did not go on this vacation. He was working to help pay for this vacation. (They have since divorced). He did not approve at all, but when it came to her sons, he had no say. (that in itself is a whole other issue). My son is 14. NO, you are NOT getting a tattoo, Jake!
Isabel and I ran about the house, ransacking things, with her saying "Nope, not heeeere!" and eventually settled on taking down one of her silk butterflies stuck on her wall. She pulls up her shirt, puts it to her stomach and says "Nope, too big."
I think tomorrow I'm going to Target on my lunch break. I saw some cute temporary tattoos there. *grin*