When She's 7

This morning Brenna accompanied me to the bathroom. Sadly I am used to this and realize that it will be years before I am allowed to use a toilet solo.

As I was sitting there trying to ignore the ever curious three-year-old eyes that were intently watching me do my business I hear,"Mommy, where did that horsey come from?"

"What horsey?" I asked, thoroughly confused but completely overjoyed that we weren't discussing my BM.

"Your unicorn," Brenna answered pointing at my hip.

"Mommy got it in Minnesota, honey."

"It's a tattoo. When I am 7 I will go to Minnesota and get a unicorn, too," I was informed.

Seven, of course being the "magic age" in her mind as that's how old I am. She conveniently neglects to add the "thirty" to the front of it.

So I kept my mouth shut and didn't mention that I got it when I was twenty three. Because, knowing Brenna, she would conveniently forget the "twenty" part and think it was time for her own visit to the tattoo parlor.