I had stuck the photos along with some other miscellany in a little pigeonhole thing on my desk and sort of forgotten about them. This morning, the Child came downstairs to bid me farewell before she hied off to school, and happened to tug the photos out.
Oops. Two of them are decidedly not worksafe. One is a photo of me and Annie Sprinkle, from a time that me and goulo and zainybrain and a few others went to see her on her road show. I leave the content of the photo to the imagination of the reader, but suffice to say no father on earth wants his eight year old daughter asking questions about *that* one. (And no, before you ask, I'm fully clothed.) The other is a photo of me and goulo being particularly juvenile in front of a sign which reads "Prude Ranch." (And no, before you ask, I'm not fully clothed.)
So I snag those photos and pop them into my desk drawer. This maneuver does not escape the notice of the Child. Trouble ensues, as she has the inveterate curiosity of a sack of cats. I tell her it's a picture of me being silly when I was much younger. Silly how? Oh, you don't want to know. Yes I do.
I caved. I flashed her a photo of twin moons rising beneath the Prude Ranch sign. And I do mean flash, like a flipcard. Annie I palmed off safely. The look on the Child's face was priceless -- something between hilarity, astonishment and disgust.
I do not, however, look forward to explaining that to her mother.