Well, I did it.  After many years of saying I would "never get a tattoo", I got one. I've never really liked tattoos and have never contemplated getting one.  I'm not trying to look cool or recapture my youth.  It's not a "bucket list" thing or a loss on a bet.  Like Jim Carey in "Yes Man", I couldn't say "no". 

My youngest daughter, Hannah, was diagnosed with Autism in 1998, when she was 21 months old.  Having a child with Autism changes not only the parents of that child, but the siblings of that child are shaped and affected by Autism and it's affects on the family.  Sometimes siblings have to wait on the sidelines a lot when autism takes centre stage.  Siblings have to grow up a little faster than their same-aged peers.  As parents, we did our best to create as "normal" a life as possible in a household that sometimes looked very "abnormal".  I know we weren't always perfect.  I know we were sometimes so exhausted and drained that we didn't do everything as well as we would have liked. Often, just getting from morning to night each day was more than I could handle.  Hannah's sisters, Meaghan and Sarah, have always been patient, understanding, and mature beyond their years when it comes to supporting their sister.  They have not complained.  They have not accused us of neglecting them.  They have not showed resentment toward their sister for the daily difficulties that she endures.  They have only been loving, kind, considerate, compassionate, helpful, and grateful.  So when they asked if we could get tattoos for Autism awareness, how could we say no?  The only possible answer was "YES".