In this case, it’s his grandma.
A few years back, after years of pining to be inked, my mama got her first tattoo: two sets of angel wings wrapped around her right ankle. The sets are for my father and her brother, who died four years ago within six months of each other from colon cancer.
So last week, my mama gathered her courage, we piled Charlie in the car and headed to Concrete Jungle Tattoo Studio (Best. Name. Ever.) in Chula Vista. I wanted to document the process, but Tattoo Guy kicked Charlie and I out. Something about infants and the risk blood-borne illnesses (yikes!). Charlie and I headed to the library for an hour, then returned to pick up my mama and her new tats.
She did great. She loves the new design. And I’m so proud of her.
Charlie didn’t say much, but I’m sure he’s impressed, too.
My mother asked why I didn’t want a tattoo of Charlie’s name.
My response: You didn’t get a tattoo of my name!