*Alternate title: I don't know how I keep showing my face at my son's school.
Today, when I picked up Boy Pop from school, he had a backpack full of his many art projects. This evening, while going through the art and trying to find his homework assignments, I pulled out a folded up, rolled up piece of paper.
Me: Boy Pop, what's this? (as I unfold it and realize it is four feet long)
Boy Pop: Oh, that's just what I want to be when I grow up.
Me: What do you want to be?
BP: A tattoo man.
Dr Pop: What?
BP: A person who makes tattoos on people.
As I unrolled the life-sized sketch of my boy, complete with crayon "tattoo" drawings on the arms and legs, along with a smiley face.
Dr Pop: Where did you hear about tattoo artists?
BP: On a show that I watched with Nana and GrandDad.
He then proceeded to describe all of the tattoos... Let's see, there was our dog, one of our cats, a stick figure, a "star wars fighting thing," a snake, and I believe a Transformer or two.