Protecting Privacy

I don't get it. 

All I did was post an absolutely adorable picture of  "someone" on Facebook from about 23 years ago.  

When she was about 1.  And she had a few folds in her thighs.  And a bit of a pudgy pouch.  And a scratch on her cheek, that probably came from my toenail.  

(Don't judge.  Tell me you never played leg-jail with your kids.) 

In an effort to protect her privacy, let's call that someone "Svetlana".

So I posted the picture on Facebook with a comment, "Lou thinks that Svetlana looked like a sumo wrestler in this photo."   

And I tagged her.

Now.  Even though Sveltana lives on the other side of the world in Australia. 

Wait a minute.  I should probably protect Sveltana's privacy. 

Even though Sveltana lives on the other side of the world in Timbuktu, and it was the middle of the damn night in Timbuktu, Svetlana called me within 30 seconds of my posting the of the precious picture.

"Mom, take that down.  Now.  Or I will un-friend you."

"But I've already gotten 3 likes!"

"MOM!  I mean it."

I grudgingly deleted the posting.  I guess it was wrong of me to assume Svetlana would want my friends to see just how stunning she was as a sprout. 

I suppose I must respect her modesty.

I wonder how often Sveltana reads my blog.