This was my second Daddy-Daughter dance. Much like dog years, dads age about seven years with each dance for a variety of reasons, but mainly because their little girls are growing up each year.
But it is at least one night when dads are in the spotlight and daughters have no choice but to embrace them because Super Mommy is at home. You want something, sweetheart? You have to ask Dad. Of course, daughters are fully aware they're going to get whatever they want on this night. The last thing an unprepared dad wants to deal with is his daughter crying in the middle of a gymnasium even if the music and disco lights hide the theatrics.
Of course, my DDD (Daddy-Daughter Drama) began before we left. My six-year-old had a beautiful pink dress. Despite her initial disappointment that I wouldn't be wearing a tuxedo she was overly excited for this special night. And when Super Mommy agreed to let her wear a little makeup...well, what could possibly ruin this night?
Lipstick. Lipstick could ruin this night. "Mom, I want bright red lipstick." "Ummm, no m'am. That's not going to happen. You can put on a little lip gloss." Cue the Hoover Dam. Finally, after tears were shed and egos fed, Ms. Six going on 17 agreed to wear lip gloss. I was pretty proud of my point to her. "Sweetheart, lip gloss is lipstick. Like you have a nickname, lip is just short for lipstick. So, you're wearing lipstick gloss." Crisis averted.
After facing the paparazzi of family members on the way out the door it was on to the school gymnasium turned Studio 54. The school really does a terrific job with this. And since we had survived one DDD my daughter wouldn't fall for my story that I had bribed the principal to let me choose the music.
We arrived fashionably late (did I mention prior meltdown) and I knew what my first vision of the gym would be. Yes, a group of dads surrounding the sidelines and baselines of the basketball court that made up the dance floor. It's not quite guards in front of Birmingham Palace, but not far from it. Dads are encouraged to dance, but most take the floor in the most tentative of ways and tend to sway two or three inches to each side while keeping a laser-like focus on their daughter.
You could also compare this to the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona. The dads are the walls that line the streets and the daughters are the bulls...running wildly around the floor. There are also dads who pack the bleachers of the gym. Some to get a better vantage point to keep an eye on their daughter, but most in hopes of not having to descend on the dance floor and be exposed. Those who think they can't dance or actually can not dance know their fate. They will inevitably be positioned next to the one dad who can bust a move with the best of them and isn't shy about proving it.
I don't fancy myself to be a dancer, but I can get by. I had no problems sharing this night with my daughter on the dance floor. And besides, I knew I could embarrass her on purpose if she didn't listen to me.
The more experienced dads know they don't have to worry too much. Once the daughters weather the initial flash of what's happening upon entry they have only one mission...find their friends. After taking the floor for about, oh, thirty seconds of dancing, the next five to seven minutes are spent cruising the gym for friends at about the same pace Cinderella had trying to beat the clock to midnight. And what a glorious moment when your daughter finds a friend or even better a group of them.
Eventually, a slow song will come on with the DJ requesting daddys and daughters to dance together so dads know they'll get their moment, but during the "Friends" episode of the night dads can catch their breath and talk about dad things without guilt because for that period of time we don't exist in our daughters worlds. They will dance and laugh among themselves without a care in the world. And of that I'm extremely jealous. I spent my free time as a water boy holding three to four small bottles of their water while they danced hard regardless of the tempo of the song. I was pretty impressed with my ability to hold three bottles of water, a bag of popcorn and cookies in napkins while keeping up with who had what when the song was over.
Then came the inevitable bathroom break. Since it was the school gym she just took off with "bathroom" trailing off. I stood guard near the door. And waited. And waited. And...you get the picture. When she appeared some 15 minutes later I made the mistake of asking her what took so long. "Uh, Dad, the line was long." I did not see a line out the door so I asked, " Did you happen to spend some time gabbing with your friends in there?" A smile slowly creeped across her face and she knew she was busted. I didn't know the whole "women going to the bathroom together" started at six years old or younger. She was also smart enough to know she could escape with a well-timed "Let's dance!"
When the dance was over (an hour that felt like three hours, but also just ten minutes at the same time) I felt deprived. I had seen into the future, but also felt like I had lost something valuable in the past. I asked, "Would you like to stay out and have Daddy-Daughter dessert?" A resounding "YES!" rang from the back seat. "Dad, can we go somewhere fancy?" I answered, "Absolutely, we'll find a place worthy of your Princess presence."
We settled on a steakhouse not too far away and were treated like royalty by the staff despite informing them we were just there for dessert. We looked at photos, traded jokes and drizzled chocolate sauce on our vanilla ice cream to stir it into chocolate soup although careful enough not to splatter. I mean, a Princess has a certain image to live up to.
As we were walking to our car she said, "Dad, I know I can't marry you, but I wish I could." I laughed out loud, but now know it was probably to keep from crying. Fortunately she bailed out my emotions with her next line. "But I'm not going to marry a stinky boy. If a stinky boy proposes to me I'm going to say NO!"
So through the meltdown, the forgetting I'm there and the bathroom vacation I realized she's pretty smart and has a very good idea of what she wants. And for one night she wanted me by her side. I can't wait for next year's dance.
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