The remain of Archer's Halloween Costume are still in full force. One would think I do not bathe my child but on the contrary. The only place I can control Archer's chaos is in the tub, where we read and sing songs and he poops on my lap at least twice a day. I digress, the tattoos have not rubbed away and some of them look just as they did the day I applied them with water and washcloth. (For some reason the pacifiers with flames will NOT rub off. Neither will the various anchors and nautical stars. Neither will the sparrow on his face).
I kind of like it. It's cute and I'm definitely a fan of GOOD tattoos in their various shapes and forms and Archer's temp tats are Retro-fabulous. You will see no butterflies. No Japanese characters of hope/faith/love and/or astrological signs. (And yes I have all of the aforementioned on my body. And yes I was 16. And yes I'm aware that they are about as original as a bad tribal-tattoo on a porn-star in the Valley. And yes you can talk shit all you want but I DO have some tasteful tattoos. Several, actually. In fact my entire coming of age is mapped out permanently for all to see.)But once again, I digress... The point that I have been TRYING to get at is this: Some people believe it when I tell them Archer's tattoos are real. Some people aren't as stupid as others. Others are... um... well... not well.
"Does your baby have tattoos?"
"Yeah. Aren't they sweet?"
"Wait. Those aren't real are they?"
"Actually, yeah they are."
"Get out! Seriously? Wow! How did you even get him to hold still for all that work? He must have an INSANE threshold for pain."
"Totally he does. You should have seen him during his circumcision? He was like, Psh. Is that all you got?"
Sometimes they know I'm joking of course. Sometimes they truly believe I am swear-to-heyzues-serious. (Help.)
I'm either an exceptionally good liar or THEY are just dumb as shit.
"But aren't they cool!? Tattoos are cool. And my son is cool. Maybe you should get your kid sleeved up. I mean... If YOU were cool you would. Oh and P.S. He also smokes cigarettes. Unfiltered. And he rolls them himself. Can you say, triple-cool?"
And they believe me. The blondes with their Kitson bags and the Grandma-mas at the playground think I'm some sort of DIY tattoo artist for toddlers. No dirty looks, only puzzled tilts of the head.
"How so-very alternative."
"Thanks. It's REALLY super-important for my kid to stick out in the YMCA daycare-crowd."
Sometimes I love Los Angeles. Truly, anything here goes. Tattooed toddlers are not beyond the realms of reality, and in this wondrous city of actors, professional liars, fakers and phonies, I get to hide behind Archer's faux-ink and say with the straightest face possible, "Yes, bitches. They ARE real... High time you had your toddler sleeved up."
Because seriously, people. What are you waiting for?
GGC
