Getting Tattoos=Rad Kid Cool

Lady E. came up to me last week, says: “I’m ready to accept greater responsibility for my own life decisions. I’m five now. I want a SpongeBob tattoo to commemorate this great virtual mentor of mine for the rest of my life.”

I thought: Her sound logic shows developmental progress; feelings of veneration for SpongeBob indicate emotional maturity; and she acknowledges the permanence. And it’s just a boss idea.

I reply: “OK, Elena—sold. But one condition. I want a piece of that coolness, so we ALL have to get tattoos.”

The bargain struck, we had a Rising Family Assembly® to decide what the most awesome tats were that we could get. Elena wanted to keep the SpongeBob motif, but Marina doesn’t quite grasp the whole underwater/Bikini Bottom thing yet. I wanted the famous “screaming chicken” (seen best on the Bandit 1977 Pontiac Trans Am) for all of us, but the girls nixed that idea.

The only thing more badass would be pirate ink, Naomi said. Lady E. was all over that—elementary school buccaneer chic ahoy! So cool! And thus the Brigand Rising Family was born.

Check it out. Someday, when Marina is 50 years old in...well...48 years from now, she will think back to how lucky she was to have such a progressive family. Lady E's tribal thorns are very proto Red Hot Chili Peppers.

You know what they say: the family that gets tattoos together, stays together.

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My satire aside, we don't want to go to jail for child neglect and so I must write in small print these were just temporary water tats. Duh! And we do like tattoos, just not on our kids. The adults in the family have two small ones, so I am not trying to offend any inked folks out there.