The Smiths were unable to conceive children and decided to use a surrogate father to start their family. On the day the proxy father was to arrive, Mr Smith kissed his wife goodbye and said, “Well, I’m off now. The man should be here soon.”
Half an hour later, just by chance, a door-to-door baby photographer happened to ring the doorbell, hoping to make a sale. “Good morning, Ma’am,” he said, ‘I’ve come to …”
“Oh, no need to explain,” Mrs Smith cut in, embarrassed. “I’ve been expecting you.”
“Have you really?” said the photographer. “Well, that’s good. Did you know babies are my specialty?”
“Well, that’s what my husband and I had hoped. Please come in and have a seat.”
After a moment she asked, blushing, “Well, where do we start?”
“Leave everything to me. I usually try two in the bathtub, one on the couch and perhaps a couple on the bed. And sometimes the living room floor is fun. You can really spread out there.”
“Bathtub, living room floor? No wonder it didn’t work out for Harry and me!”
“Well, Ma’am, none of us can guarantee a good one every time. But if we try several different positions and I shoot from six or seven angles, I’m sure you’ll be pleased with the results.”
“My, that’s a lot!” gasped Mrs Smith.
