A re-Blog to wet your whistle as I prepare to return…
My high school son announced the other day that he was getting a tattoo.
I told him: “That’s nice, and when you leave for your INK appointment make sure you take extra clothes with you”.
He stated back: ” Why? Do they make you change your clothes?”.
“No”. I smiled back at him….” You’ll be needing something to wear when you find yourself no longer living in this house for doing something stupid”.
“My friend Jordan got one”….He mocks back. “It’s scripture, written under his arm”.
“Well”, I breath out between gritted teeth, “I’m sure God will be pleased to know that his word is being spread through Jordan’s armpit”.
He carries on: “You know I turn 18 soon, and I don’t need your permission. That’s what Jordan did”.
I hate that sense of entitlement and the continual referencing of the legal age of consent being thrown…
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