The Tale of the Tattoo Tragedy (and, eventually, Triumph)

A few weeks ago, I brought Happy along with me to an appointment I had.  He was remarkably, possibly even astoundingly, well-behaved.  There is a Toys-R-Us in the same shopping center and, well, you see where this is going. 

Typically, when we go to the store, I let the kids look at toys but we don't buy anything.  Because of this, Happy is quite familiar with which stores have which Angry Bird paraphernalia (Angry Birds are the current obsession).  He knew Toys-R-Us had this particular Angry Birds coloring set that he'd been eying.  And he was thrilled for "Happy to take in car."

So excited!

When we got home and broke into the box, he discovered that there were temporary tattoos in there.  I guess he had never encountered them before and Brandon explained to him what they were and proceeded to put one on him.

Now, with temporary tattoo application there are a few things that apparently must resemble a shot to a young lad. You must first sit still, someone must hold your arm (or wherever you decide to place the tattoo), and put pressure on that arm to apply said tattoo.  And a tattoo looks remarkably like a band aid left behind after a shot.

Oh, my.  The screaming and tears that took place.  Unreal.

{Now, Happy is typically unusually happy, hence the pen name, unless you "do" something to him.  Haircuts, Dentist appointments, nails clipped.  Bless the souls whose professions are to "do" something to my child.}

Then, it was Lil Miss's turn.  She heard all the screaming from Happy and wanted nothing to do with it.  Brandon pressed on, namely by pinning her down to apply said tattoo.

Oh, the wailing.

We thought the kids would recover within a few minutes.  We were so very wrong. 

I had to Google how to remove temporary tattoos.

The removal. 

FYI-If you are ever in a similar ridiculous predicament, rubbing alcohol works best.

Happy referred to the tragedy throughout the day.  I decided to put one on myself that evening so that he could see I would survive such trauma.

He finally came around and decided to try it again, 9 hours later.

Mommy is still alive!

Ahh!  Happy is still alive, too.

Three weeks later, we are still well stocked with Angry Birds tattoos.  Today, I applied four tattoos to each child (well, not the baby).  And they still have to declare that, "I not sad. I okay!" while getting the tattoo.

Tragedy turned to triumph.