From the time our daughters were able to say the word tattoo, they have bugged their dad to give them one. They didn’t want to hear that it was against the law for them to get tattoos before they were 18 years old. They figured that since their dad did them and both of us had some, they should be automatically exempt. And waiting to turn 18 for a three year old and a six year old was a feat most 16 and 17 year olds can’t even endure. So, we came up with the next best thing….Sharpie markers. I went out and bought every color Sharpie had to offer. 

He sat his girls down and told them that they were finally going to be able to get the tattoos they’ve always wanted their whole, entire lives. They were beside themselves with excitement. “But it’s going to hurt. Mommy said it hurts,” said my little peanut, Gia.

He explained that I had gone out and bought special Little-Girl-No-Hurt-Tattoo-Makers so they could have tattoos of their very own AND it wasn’t against the law. Their eyes bulged as they squealed with joy, as only little girls can. Our oldest, Sofia, took off running upstairs only to reappear moments later with a notebook. “I have been waiting for this my whole life!” she announced. She handed over the notebook to her daddy. Inside, she had sketched a design of what her future tattoo would look like….a skull with an exotic flower on its head.  It was perfect.

He set up a make-shift tattoo studio in the dining room and asked for his first customer. Sofia hopped right up on the chair and lifted her shirt sleeve. She had the placement thought out and everything. He got to work.

After about ten minutes and artist/client chit chat, her first tattoo was finished. She jumped down and ran to the mirror to check out that bad ass skull on her arm. She was thrilled! She ran back and gave him a hug. That was his tip. She then took off upstairs to put on a tank top so when she rode her bike outside, people would see it and command respect. Now it was Gia’s turn.

She climbed into daddy’s tattoo chair with a bit more hesitation than her older sister. She’s not a skull kind of girl and had yet to be convinced that it wasn’t going to hurt. Put it this way, when she was barely two years old, she had one of those lick‘em-stick’em tattoos ,like the kind you get out of a gumball machine, of a lady bug she freaked out. She liked the ladybug when it was still on the paper, but once it was on her skin, she cried. She was convinced that it was going to bite her. So, for her to want a tattoo was a big deal.

She decided on a smiley face; something not scary. He drew the happiest face with curly blonde hair just like hers. She was so excited with how it looked and that there was no pain whatsoever that she decided that she wanted another one. Before long, she was covered on her forearms, back and legs with flowers, birds, a sun and Minnie Mouse. Then, to all of our amazement, she asked daddy for a skull.

“Are you sure?” asked daddy. “It will take a lot of baths to get it off.” She didn’t care. She wanted a skull. Being the awesome daddy that he is, he drew it on a piece of paper first before putting it on her. He wanted her to approve it before he put it on her. She loved it. It was a skull and crossbones, like the Jolly Roger, except all done in pink. Pink makes everything less scary, you know.

She didn’t let me watch. I was banished to the other room while she got her pink skull and crossbones. After about a ten minute wait, she came into the kitchen to show me. There it was, right on her bicep, a pink skull and crossbones. Underneath it, he added something a special…..MOM. My three year old was officially a badass little chickie.

And that was the start of Daddy’s Tattoo Shop. It was a good run, but after a few years, he had to close the doors. The two lovely clients he had all these years had moved on; they were getting older. They no longer wanted to be tattooed by the special Little-Girl-No-Hurt-Tattoo-Makers. Oh well. But they still have to wait until their 18 to get real ones.