The other night, Mini-Pear and I were reading in my bed. She suddenly put down her book and looked over at me. She leaned in and petted my (tattooed) arm, "I was just noticing how pretty all these flowers are..."
"Do you think you might get a tattoo one day?"
"Um. Probably. But probably one that is a little more private. Probably one that I'm the only one who knows it's there..."
Oh. Okay. I think I'm getting a good idea as to how this role modeling works. Time for me start sleeping around and binge drinking. Maybe even send John McCain a little election money.
Those are a couple of not so private temporary tattoos Mr. Pear acquired from Mini-Pear this weekend.
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