She quickly offered up her right hand...and looked at the drawing in awe...
Then a knee...and then the other..and soon..she was covered in ink from hands to the bottom of her feet.
I've been drawing or writing notes on my palm I think since I could write.
There has been more than one occasion when I have been part of a meeting and began jotting a quick note on my hand only to have someone in the room look at me like I'm insane and offer up paper.
My dad hated this habit. He would tell me the ink may stay forever, or it might be a toxin..any number of 500 unsavory outcomes....
I walked into the kitchen tonight and saw her with her dad. She was saying heart. heart. Heart. HEART.
as he drew in pink ink and told her his hearts aren't as pretty as mine.
I guess in the end if she ends up a tatted up diva, we'll own the outcome.
I'm confident at least one will be a heart.
www.mimi-zilla.com
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