Don’t touch

Don’t eat that

No jumping

No sitting

No standing

Don’t lick that

Don’t miss your curfew.

I remember when my kids reached the year of less than obedient threes. I caught myself saying no to everything, even if my answer to them could have been a yes. 

When my now adult 18 year old daughter said she wanted a tattoo, I didn’t hesitate. “I’ll pay for it if I can come with you.” A year long conversation ensued. 

We talked about hasty decisions I’ve made when much prayer was needed. We talked about what tattoos mean to her. Is it just something pretty? Will you always feel in favor of tattoos? 

Do your tattoos need to tell a story or can they just be pretty? 

Are there jobs or situations you could find yourself in that might not welcome your tattoos? 

How about when you’re a missionary in another country and you want people to listen to your message? What if their culture doesn’t allow them to look past your tattoo? 

Where will you place it? Are you for or against face tattoos? No, that isn’t an obvious answer. 

We talked about WHAT is a good idea for permanent and what should only be drawn in sharpie marker. Winnie the Pooh? Hmm. The face of your first boyfriend? Please say no. Mom in a big red heart. Probably. 

She was going to get a tattoo. It wasn’t a question. I didn’t get a say in it because she is a grown up woman baby, and she can think for herself. I WANT her to think for herself. But I don’t have to just step aside. 

She’s my girl. I love her and she respects me as her momma. We’ve worked to have lines of communication. Once we’ve talked, she can take my words or leave them. But I’ve done my part. I’ve loved her enough to brooch the tricky subjects. No glossing. Enough with the glossing.