The Temporary Tattoo

Oh how I despise you temporary tattoo. The way you look after two hours. The impossibility to remove you. The everlasting mark you leave on my children. I cringe when I hear your name. I hide you places where I think my children will not find you. However they always seem to have a secret stash just waiting to torture me with.

 You always seem to gravitate to the arm. The place for all to see. “Hey look at me” you say. You are so absolutely modest. I ask the girls “how about your tummy or your leg?” But I believe you whisper child talk to them, causing them to ignore my suggestions and move forward with yours. Put me where your mom has to see me at all times. Put me in a place where I will transform into a blob, a splatter of pieces, a hodgepodge mess.

I have scrubbed. I have used magic potions. I have used everything that I have found on google. Nothing seems to work. The temporary is not so temporary. You always manage to elude disappearing. You are cunning, you are my worst nightmare, you are simply something that I would completely do away with. Unfortunately my daughters love you. They love when you come in Frozen characters or pretty butterflies. Snowflakes, flowers, stars, cars, superheros. Nothing is off limits for them to enjoy. So I will continue to put up with your shenanigans. I will continue to look at how disgusting you are. I will continue to scrub and concoct potions. All for the love of my daughters.