I wrote the following a year or two ago in answer to a call for submissions on explaining tattoos to your kids. It wasn't accepted, but I like it.
My five year old sat curled by my side, inspecting my bicep. “It's on a flower.” A chubby finger traced the outline.
“It's a tattoo, baby.”
“It's a tattoo, baby.”
I couldn't help but smile when she asked me, “What's a 'too?” My princess' big brown eyes widened when I explained that the picture she was tracing was going to be there forever. I assured her multiple times that yes, forever really meant forever. To a five year old, forever might be a few minutes or it might just be until next week.
Her questions reminded me a bit of when my own mother had posed when she first saw my tattoo. Without the chastisement, though. My daughter had a genuine interest while my mother could only express shock. I didn't mind answering my little girl when she wanted to know why I chose a snake or why the tattoo was so big.
The picture is of a black snake twined around a black and pink tinged rose. It is around six inches in length and covers a scar. To me, the choice between wearing a scar for the rest of my life or a tattoo to cover it, was clear. These days I forget there is even a scar under the tattoo unless someone asks me why I would chose such a large design.
Explaining this to my daughter was easy. I learned a long time ago that children are the happiest when they receive simple, straight forward answers. Too much complexity confuses them. I'm not a politician, I'm a mom and clouding the issue isn't my style.
“Mommy, does it hurt to get a 'too?”
“Yes, sweetie. It does hurt some.”
She rubs my arm and puts her cheek to the tattoo. “Poor mommy. Does it hurt now?”
“Ha, no baby, that was a long time ago and it didn't hurt bad.” Her hair is soft and tickles my cheek when I snuggle her closer. “It's O.K., because mommy wanted to get the tattoo. It's all better now, but you're so sweet.”
“Can I get a 'too?”
I hadn't expected her to ask that. Yes, I have a good idea of what goes through the mind of a child. They want to be just like mommy or daddy. Still, the hypocrite in me rebelled against the idea that my baby would ever get ink. In an effort to beat the monster in my mind down- my mother- I told her... “If you still want a tattoo when you are all grown up, you can have one.” I didn't add in 'and if mommy lets you.'
I can't control her choices. My mother could not control mine. Heck, I am lucky if my daughter decides that picking up her toys when I ask is a good idea. But today, she was happy. Her finger still traced the petals of my rose.
“Mommy, I like your 'too.”
“So do I, baby. So do I.”
Her questions reminded me a bit of when my own mother had posed when she first saw my tattoo. Without the chastisement, though. My daughter had a genuine interest while my mother could only express shock. I didn't mind answering my little girl when she wanted to know why I chose a snake or why the tattoo was so big.
The picture is of a black snake twined around a black and pink tinged rose. It is around six inches in length and covers a scar. To me, the choice between wearing a scar for the rest of my life or a tattoo to cover it, was clear. These days I forget there is even a scar under the tattoo unless someone asks me why I would chose such a large design.
Explaining this to my daughter was easy. I learned a long time ago that children are the happiest when they receive simple, straight forward answers. Too much complexity confuses them. I'm not a politician, I'm a mom and clouding the issue isn't my style.
“Mommy, does it hurt to get a 'too?”
“Yes, sweetie. It does hurt some.”
She rubs my arm and puts her cheek to the tattoo. “Poor mommy. Does it hurt now?”
“Ha, no baby, that was a long time ago and it didn't hurt bad.” Her hair is soft and tickles my cheek when I snuggle her closer. “It's O.K., because mommy wanted to get the tattoo. It's all better now, but you're so sweet.”
“Can I get a 'too?”
I hadn't expected her to ask that. Yes, I have a good idea of what goes through the mind of a child. They want to be just like mommy or daddy. Still, the hypocrite in me rebelled against the idea that my baby would ever get ink. In an effort to beat the monster in my mind down- my mother- I told her... “If you still want a tattoo when you are all grown up, you can have one.” I didn't add in 'and if mommy lets you.'
I can't control her choices. My mother could not control mine. Heck, I am lucky if my daughter decides that picking up her toys when I ask is a good idea. But today, she was happy. Her finger still traced the petals of my rose.
“Mommy, I like your 'too.”
“So do I, baby. So do I.”
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