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Angelina has quite a few, so does Posh and even sweet, perky Kelly Ripa has one just like approximately 40% of American women between the ages of 26 to 40. What is that? Tattoos, of course. So do I. I currently have three and to be honest, while I have no regret over any of them, I don't really give them much thought just like the birthmark on my thigh. The vericose veins that I have on my leg...well, I obsess about those all the time.

All of my tattoos are special to me. Why else would I choose to alter my body in such a permanent way? But I have to say that first tattoo of mine is very special to me. A girl never forgets her first and for me it is very special. Six years ago, at a family reunion in Paradise, My hubs' sisters, cousins and myself decided we should celebrate this monumental gathering of our clan and get inked. 

Yes, we could blame it a little bit on the alcohol but it did seem like a pretty good idea.

Bill's sister suggested the art that we all should get since, after all, we are family.  Of course me being the outlaw, er,  inlaw, I wanted something a little more representative of me. I love my hubby's family dearly but a little daisy on the ankle just wasn't me...I may as well have an arrow inked on my leg pointing up to the twisty, ropey veins I had. No, I had a better idea. Even my sister in law couldn't argue with it. It was the perfect tattoo for me.

It still is. 

I love those little feet and all that they represent to me and my family. So does the owner of those little feet. He has gotten so much bigger as have his feet. This tattoo of mine isn't regularly on display except when it is 100° or more outside like it has been the last couple of days. Hot August days, the little inky toes peek out from the top of a tank top and because they have been there for so long, I hardly even notice them. 

But Daniel does. He is amazed that these tiny feet were once how big his feet were. When he spies them he almost always asks me about his feet or how tiny he once was. It's one of those moments I embrace as I share with him just how special he is.

Last night was one of those moments. As Daniel and I rocked together before his bedtime he looked down at my little tattoo peeking over my tank top and again he noted, "Those are my baby feet."

"Yes they are, Daniel."

"My feet are a lot bigger now." They gotten longer too."

"That's because you are growing up, son."

"Yup! I am. That's why my feet are longer. Hey mom?"

"What Daniel?"

"This foot is longer than the other foot.", he tells me as he points at one of the footprints. "Maybe my baby tattoo feet are growing too!"

"I hope not, son"

You know, back when I first showed off my new tattoo at the family reunion...again, one could blame it on the alcohol... my mother in law commented in her sweet, Southern lady way that I should be mindful of the effects of gravity. Six years later I am discovering that yes, gravity does work even on teeny, tiny baby feet tattoos.

It still is the most perfect tattoo.

More Adventures in Juggling can be found at http://adventuresinjuggling.wordpress.com