The f-word was there for all to see. And a few variations of the b-word. Then, suddenly, out popped a middle-age man from a bar, bulging out of Superman briefs and nothing else.

   On the other side, a passenger rolled down his car window and gestured for a street-walking woman to climb aboard.

   For two kids sheltered in the world of American Girl and Disney, this must have seemed otherworldly.

  But it was just another day on Duval Street in Key West.

   I spent nearly a year working in the Southernmost City several years before becoming a family guy. Last weekend, I returned as a dad, taking the two princesses to see the gingerbread homes, soak up some history, wander the narrow streets of Old Town, watch the sun melt into the Gulf, inhale the jasmine-scented nights.

   Yet with all of that came the crude slogans of the many T-shirt shops lining the main drag, drunk-drenched people spilling out of the bars, streetwise fashions that often don't include undergarments.
  
   It's all part of the scene here, and Dad didn't attempt to shelter the young and the innocent.
 
  What's a dad to do? Cover their eyes?
 
  When these girls were younger -- they are now 9 and and 11 -- they lived a pretty sheltered life. We hid the newspaper most days to avoid the splatter of crime and war and sex at the breakfast table. We pretty much skipped over discussing the horrors of 9/11. We didn't watch the local TV news in front of them.
  
   For younger princess, walking up and down Duval Street wasn't much more than a pain. She was tired, had to go, and wanted to be carried. A cup of ice cream provided some succor as did the sunset celebration at Mallory Square.

  
   For older princess, her eyes glanced furtively into the gift-shop windows. When we stopped for dinner, she began sobbing. The crude and offensive slogans splayed across the tacky tourist T-shirts got to her.

  
   We simply told her: If you're upset, that just means you're a good person. Then we told her about freedom of speech and commerce and let her know that she was free to look the other way if something she spots upsets her.

  
   The next day, everything was sugar cones and sprinkles once again. The girls discovered the innocent delights at the Hemingway House -- ignoring the author's violent suicide, his insatiable romantic appetites, his fascination with a barroom urinal, big fish and wild game.

   They just wanted to pet the six-toed cats.

    Visit Jeff Kleinman's posts on the MomsMiami.com message boards at http://www.momsmiami.com/forum/search.php?author_id=64&sr=posts