A few months ago, I wrote about some experiences changing my kid in public. Today, I’m going to write about a different kind of messy moment.
My sister is a wonderful artist and spends a lot of time drawing with my daughter. She is a wonderful aunt and has taken on near godlike status in my kid’s eyes.
Both my sister and I have tattoos so as Lauren gets more interested in art, she’s getting interested in tattoos. I told her the story of each time my friend Shawn tattooed me and told her it’s really special when someone you care about designs a tattoo for you because whenever you see the art, you’re reminded of the person who put it into your skin. It’s like wearing a permanent record of the artist.
My kid and I kept talking and I asked her what kind of tattoo she would design if I let her design one for me. She said that she wanted her name on my forearm. That sounded pretty cute and I had visions of her amazing little scrawl. Lauren is obsessed with letters and numbers – she knows those symbols have a special meaning but she can’t quite understand it yet. Exploring letters and numbers with my child has been one of the most rewarding moments in parenthood. It seemed right so I agreed. We even made a contract.
So, we started working. For her first draft, she chose yellow and don’t get me wrong, yellow is a beautiful colour and I understand why the three year old would choose it for me. Sadly, my confidence doesn’t quite match her artistic vision – my skin is pale oatmeal coloured and yellow is not a particularly attractive colour on my skin.
Then, we got to the second draft.
The message behind the tattoo is really wonderful. It’s a picture of Lauren’s Regina family having fun together outside on a sunny day. My Mom, sister, Lauren and I are all there having fun. There’s even a fish jumping out of the water!
It sounds so beautiful and wholesome, but everyone is farting. You read that correctly. I’m farting. My kid’s farting. My sister’s farting. Even my Mom’s farting. We all have big smiles and big curly fart lines coming from our behinds.
Those of you who know my Mom understand what an interesting quandary this puts me in. On one hand, the only grandchild designed a tattoo so there’s a pretty good chance that my Mom (who hates tattoos) will love this one. On the other hand, the tattoo is of her farting. Knowing my Mom, you know there’s a very real chance she’ll take a belt sander to any tattoo I come home with. Getting a tattoo of my mother farting is a little too much like wearing sandals on a motorcycle for my own comfort.
And, those of you who know me know what an interesting quandary this puts me in. My kid absolutely loves this tattoo and keeps telling me to get it. I promised that I would get a tattoo and this is her chosen piece. A promise is a promise and I can’t lie to her. But, I feel like getting farts tattooed on my forearm would be rather career limiting.
I think I’m going to get tattooed…