‘Mom’ Tattoos, for Those Who Still Live With Her.

In a storefront parlor on Bergen Street in Boerum Hill, Brooklyn, a father of two sat in a chair one recent Saturday afternoon, his shirt hiked over his head to reveal an open expanse of shoulder to be tattooed.

His two children, well under 10 years old, were yelping away beside him. They weren’t there to watch. They had gone first.

Such is the normal course of affairs at Tattly, the four-year-old temporary-tattoo company, which has set up a pop-up shop for its preprinted designs here until February.

Its complete catalog runs to almost 700 designs, all licensed or commissioned from artists or organizations like the Sesame Workshop (for Sesame Street characters) or the M.T.A. (for subway-line logos).

Tattly staff will “tattoo” customers using, in place of needles, its own set of accouterments: squeeze bottles of water, sponges and (if necessary, for removal) Scotch tape.

Here in hip-young-family Brooklyn, a temporary-tattooist, where Baby can get inked to match Mom and Dad, seems like a foregone conclusion. At Tattly, not much needs to be off-limits: Tattoos take a minute to apply and last, on average, two to four days. So in addition to individual designs ($5 for a two-pack, $6 for metallic ink), the store sells a “kid’s sleeve” package with a full arm’s worth: any five for $25. (The adult’s version is $40 for eight.)

The store’s clientele breaks down fairly evenly between adults and children, said Hans Hendley, 34, the parlor manager, who was sporting a Pisces temporary tattoo on his neck but has no real tattoos.

“I’ve never really wanted one, to be honest,” he said.

There are Tattly (like moose or fish, the plural of Tattly is Tattly, Mr. Hendley said) that lean toward more traditional designs, like anchors and skulls and crossbones, but most are several notches more adorable than much of real-needle fare. They include an otter wearing a bowler hat, a carrot, trompe l’oeil friendship bracelets and a digital watch whose face reads “PARTY.”

The No. 1 request that the store cannot currently fulfill, Mr. Hendley said, is for an avocado design. “Hands down,” he added. Photo

Mara Bodis-Wollner gets worked on at Tattly as her children look on. Credit Deidre Schoo for The New York Times

Celine Le, 16, came to the store to browse for coffee-related tattoos and was presented with two options: a quartet of cups and a cartoon coffee mug inscribed with the legend “Oh, delicious coffee, how I love thee.”

“I just really like coffee,” said Ms. Le, who has no tattoos. “I always wanted one, but I don’t have the commitment.” She said she wanted a Tattly just for fun.

“It better be just for fun,” said the young man who accompanied her.

Most Tattly are plainly faux, but for those who want them — there was an especial rush the day before Thanksgiving, as Brooklynites plotted to shock their grandmothers at the festal table — there are vérité versions, and the shop itself is a fairly convincing replica of its real-needle brethren.

“At least once a day, someone comes in thinking it’s a real tattoo shop,” said Mr. Hendley, who has to break the news gently: “I’m happy to put one on you, but it’s only going to last a few days.”

He sends those seeking permanent alteration to Brooklyn Tattoo, a 15-year veteran of the neighborhood, whose current shingle hangs just down Smith Street from Tattly.

“It’s funny,” said Adam Suerte, the co-owner of Brooklyn Tattoo, “because we’ve had a couple of our faithful clients call us up and wonder who the competition is, and say they’ll take care of them for us. We have to tell them to ease up with the pitchforks. It looks fairly professional from the outside. Their signage is actually nicer than ours, which probably fools a lot of people.”

He and Brooklyn Tattoo take a more-the-merrier approach to their new neighbor.

“It actually impresses upon the younger kids that tattoos are cool or O.K., and gets their minds starting,” Mr. Suerte said. “So maybe they’ll be future clients.”