Why I sent my underage son to Las Vegas to get a giant tattoo

Trading tattoos for grades? Yup, guilty.

Preparing the needle
(Image credit: Martin Förster/dpa/Corbis)

Damn. There goes my Mother-of-the-Year Award.

Last month, I sent my 16-year-old son to Las Vegas overnight to get a giant black tattoo in a place where he'll see it every day for maybe 70 years. And I didn't just let him go; I arranged rides, booked flights, got a hotel, and even pleaded with a reputed Sin City ink slinger to defy his own no-minors policy and scar this child's otherwise flawless forearm forever.

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