Like most parents, there are a few things in my past that I would rather my kids not find out about.  There was the drinking to excess in college, the sex before marriage, and the, uh…questionable substance I once inhaled.

I don’t want my kids to do any of these things.  I would be thrilled if they never touched alcohol, since there is a family history of addiction.  I would love for them to remain virgins until their wedding days (when they would hopefully do the deed with their new spouses and not someone else).  As far as the wacky weed, I will deny that until the day I die.  After all, I need to set an example.

All this is to lead into tattoos.  Russell has three – one very cool one of a tiger crawling up his arm, and two really stupid ones on the other arm that he wants to have covered with something else (ah, misspent, idiotic youth).  I have one tattoo on my right ankle.  I didn’t get it until I was 33 because I wanted something meaningful.  It is a memorial tattoo for Rivi…nothing more than a blue rose with his name curved around the top of it.

Since Dom first saw our tattoos, he has been fascinated with them.  He will sometimes come over and pull our clothes out of the way so he can rub our tattoos.  During the summer, he loves to point to random strangers’ ink and scream, “Tattoo!”

The other night, as I typed at my computer, Dom was watching TV 20 feet away from me.  Or so I thought.  After a few minutes, he came over and said, “Mommy?”

Once I saw him, I realized that it had been a little too quiet for the past few minutes.  He had a huge grin on his face, and he proudly screamed, “I have tattoo!”  I looked down, and sure enough, his arm and leg were covered in green marker. 

I was torn in two directions.  On one hand, he had drawn on something other than paper, which he knows is wrong.  On the other hand, though…he drew his tattoos in the same places as ours.  One scribble crawled up his arm like Daddy’s tiger, and one was on his leg. 

So, the question is, how upset can you be when your child emulates you?  Is punishment really in order when the child’s sole desire is to be like Mommy and Daddy?  And what do I do when Dom is 16 and comes home with a lightning bolt tattooed on his forehead?

No matter how hard I am pushed, I am never admitting the pot.  Nope.  We can all see where that would lead.