Tattoo

by Tracy Winegar

I am constantly asking myself if, as a mother, I am up to the challenge. I mean you think about how impressionable these little ones are, and you think about all of the things you have to shield them from, and the job seems staggering. Am I teaching them everything they need to know to be good, decent individuals, grow up fine and in good standing in the community and church? Have I provided them with the self confidence and the tools to stand up for what is right or find out what is right for themselves? Surely they know that I love them?
Occasionally an incident arises that provides me with an opportunity to instruct. Such as a recent episode with my ten year old daughter Brynlee. She wanted to know why there was a pregnant man on the news. Pretty touchy subject, that I felt I had done my best to give her the information requested and then some. However, the following story was not such a teaching moment.
My son Hayden, who is six, is obsessed with letters, and now that he understands they form words, he is obsessed with spelling. The other day, with pencil in hand, he asked me how to spell "tattoo". Imagine, if you will, the alarm bells ringing in my head. I'm already picturing the kid with graffiti confettied on his skin, as he wears a dirty wife-beater undershirt, a cigarette hanging loosely from his bottom lip. Perhaps a large red heart emblazoned with the word MOTHER on his shoulder? You know, my worst nightmare of what will hopefully never be.
I said to him, "Hayden, what do you want to know how to spell tattoo for?" His earnest reply was quite simply, "I don't know how to spell that word." How do you argue with that? So I said, "But what do you need the word for, Hayden?" "I told you, Mom, I don't know how to spell it!" and each word was enunciated as if he were speaking to someone who possessed a very simply mind. And that is where I gave up and told him he didn't need to know how to spell the word tattoo!