Thank you Carson, that will be all… for now
What I’m about to write is going to make me sound like a snob. What I should be clear about is that it will definitely reek of hypocrisy.
A few days ago I received a text message from my daughter.
It started like this: ‘Great news dad, I’ve just left the tattooist…’
It was one of those messages that require the quickest of parental thinking and at the same time, my heart sank a little.
I would like to make it clear at this juncture that I’m actually a fan of tattoos.
If I was somewhat braver and a little bit less worried about the process of falling out of love with something permanent, then I could be tempted.
However, I’m still not quite there yet.
I did once go into a tattooist, full of confidence and bravura.
I had an idea about what I wanted and was ready to push print.
However, I didn’t realise that I had to book an appointment.
I also didn’t realise that I’d have to choose a font style from a list of a possible 4.6 million options.
Then the font size and colour. Too much! I bailed.
It’s tricky being a parent and living in peace with hypocrisy.
When children are younger we go on about having tidy bedrooms and at the same time have cupboards and drawers in the kitchen that are a mess.
I wax lyrical about trying hard and taking responsibility. I really didn’t as a youngster.
So, when it comes to texts like the one from my daughter, I play the ‘great news, you’re so brave’ card.
I remember American president Barack Obama saying, when one of his daughters wanted a tattoo: ‘Great, we’re all getting one as a family.’ That put a stop to the idea.
Nothing ruins fun like your parents getting in on the act. Back to this text…
‘Great news dad, I’ve just left the tattooist…with some great new piercings!’
This could be seen as the lesser of two evils depending on your politics. It certainly causes me to exhale a degree of exhaustion and at the same time, dare I say, a bit of pride.
When I was young I bleached my hair, had Mohican haircuts and even the odd piercing.
It was and always has been the perfect time to dabble in the ridiculous; to experiment with the world and make statements that you’re different somehow even though all these things come round in cycles.
Coupled with this, there’s very little I can do about it so my only game plan is to be pleased, laid back and relaxed.
It is the vain hope that it causes some kind of diffusion for future ideas. It won’t.
I decided in the end that I had got off lightly. I could see that I was being played with the opening phrase ‘great news’. I didn’t mind that.
Piercings seem like a better outcome than a tattoo at this stage. I know how pompous that sounds but that’s how I feel. There is a downside though. As one of the new ornaments is in the belly button, I've ended up having to hang out my daughter’s washing, lift things off the bedroom floor and assist on many levels for anything that's needed lifting.
My daughter assured me that this was a temporary measure and that within the next six weeks things would be back to normal.
The 'normal' was that things would be left on the floor until there was some kind of argument that involved 'everything is our fault'.
I hadn’t realised it at the time but if you get a text celebrating new, diverse piercings, the subtext is that you’ve just been promoted to butler.
It’s tricky being a parent and living in peace with hypocrisy