Glued and Tattooed

For the most part, Trina is a stay at home mother taking care of the children. It has worked out quite nicely as the kids have gotten to know their mother quite well and formed a special bond. Don’t get me wrong, I am not opposed to women in the work place, I merely feel that if possible, a mother is needed at home to help with the fostering of young minds and preparing them for what lies ahead in their lives. There are times, like every Wednesday when Trina has things planned outside the home and I am left to care for the kids. I don’t mind, it gives me a chance to be with them more closely and I relish that time. But on certain occasions, I too get busy and the kids are given more latitude and freedom than they are normally accustomed to. For the older kids, that is perfectly fine, but with Dakota, that can be dangerous. Tonight happened to be one of the dangerous moments. I was busy working downstairs and time seemed to slip away from me. Before long, I began to notice something strange in the house, silence. That is a rarity around our house and can mean only one thing, Dakota is up to something. I began to call his name to see what he was up to. When he would not answer, I knew he was up to no good. After a thorough search of the house, I found him in the closet. There he sat with a series of colored markers making tattoos on his arms and legs. Obviously he knew he was had and I began the lecture of why markers belonged on paper and not on skin. About that time, Trina returned home to see her multi-colored son. She glared at me and immediately took Dakota to the bathroom for clean-up. “You know those are permanent markers” she said. I knew better, Dakota was in for the scrubbing of his life. By the time his bath was over, he was pink all over as the upper layer of skin was scrubbed off along with the tattoo.


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