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Monday, August 27, 2007

School Eve

"So I guess I'll just have to wait for it to wear off," the oldest says hopefully.

He's talking about the long-term tattoo he got, a garish, orange dagger entwined with a rose, while on a weekend jaunt to Busch Gardens weekend before last.

"You are not wearing that to school, sweetheart."

"But, Mom, it only comes off with baby oil, and we don't have any!"

He tries to look upset about this fact, but the edges of his lips are trembling with glee.

"Baby oil, huh."

I think for a moment, then open the spice cabinet. I grab the can of butter-flavored PAM cooking spray that's been there God knows how long, so seldom does it get used.

"Hold out your arm, please."

He holds it out and giggles as the first spray hits his skin. A swipe with a paper towel reveals that the spray is working, the tattoo is coming off, though it takes two servings of PAM to finish the job.

"Now go take a shower and make sure you wash that arm well."

"Do I have to do it right now?"

Salsa meanders into the kitchen, sniffs the air and licks her lips.

"I think you'd best," I laugh.

He bumble-stumbles to the shower, still giggling and referring to his arm as "my buttery goodness", half-little-boy, half-big-boy, my third grader.
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