Jane found a small sheet of cheap temporary tattoos that came in one of her 100's of Easter eggs they hunted for last weekend. I'm not really one to promote covering one's body with art, but she had never experienced a t.t., so what the hawk! (a term Henry coined). She was great while I was putting it on - held still like a champ. But as the afternoon progressed and parts of the tattoo started cracking and rubbing off, things went from okay to ridiculously NOT okay. A couple times she whined for tape or a bandaid to cover it. I tried to explain to her that this was normal. These tattoos are not like stickers. They don't last long, they rub off and they really don't hurt. Well, this strong-willed lassie of mine had already convinced herself that the tattoos were really hurting her and that the wrinkling pieces that were rolling off were her actual skin. I eventually grabbed a bandaid before bedtime to stop the madness, but made the mistake of trying to rub off the tattoo quickly with my thumb (to finish the job) before applying it. Oh the shrieks and shrills that came from her! You would think I just poured acid on her. As soon as those two bandaids hit her skin of course she was cured and fine. Magical.
I wonder when my children's bizarre obsessions with bandaids will end. I restock way too often and, I'm guessing 90% of them get used for non-bleeding, made-up, boo boos. I wish "Mother's Kisses" worked better. They're free and endless.
Anyways, I'm almost hoping that this experience traumatized her in a mild way so when she's 16 and rebellious, she'll choose toilet-papering someone's house instead of getting inked.
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On a side note, today was also the first day of General Conference. If there was one time where I sort of wished I had magical powers and could put my kids in a sleepy slumber for "x" amount of time, this would be it. All I want to do is sit back, crochet or do nothing while listening to these prophetic speakers. I was mildly frustrated today. Actually scratch mild and make it a medium/hot frustrated. I think it was the disappointment of Jane not taking a nap (maybe the reason behind world war tattoo), me being so tired, Mark being gone, my house always getting messier twice as fast as I can clean it, and me just not wanting to do anything but relax and listen. I just don't want to be a mom during these 8 hours. That sounds bad, especially given many of the topics of the messages. But kids, I promise I will return being a better mom after if you leave me alone. Still sounds bad...
I love my children more than anything and I did get to listen to a few talks with the help of a laptop and movie in another room. And, the night ended on smiles so that's a good thing.