Just a little more than skin deep

My middle son couldn’t wait until he reached the “enchanted” age of 18...that special age when a person somehow instantly transforms from a minor into an adult. It’s as if someone waves a magic wand and suddenly you are a “grownup.” The main reason he was so anxious wasn’t so he could perform his civic duty and vote in his first presidential election. No, he had a much more practical reason...so he could get his first tattoo. His mother and I did not allow tattoos prior to him turning 18 and now that he was all “growed up” and an “adult” and fully “responsible” (according to the law) for his actions, he had a good legal argument on his side. I know it’s popular and “all the kids” as well as many “seasoned” adults are doing it, but to be perfectly honest, the thought of having someone stick me repeatedly with a needle, no matter how “cool” the outcome, really just gets under my skin.

C’mon, sneak on into: www.rubescartoons.com (we won’t check your I.D....Promise!)