The Father Daughter Dance

If your Facebook feed is anything like mine, you were probably flooded with tons of photos this weekend.  Dads in suits.  Daughters in dresses.  Maybe with a corsage.

And it could only mean one thing.  A Father Daughter Dance.

Father Daughter Dance

And if you’re my friend on Facebook, you saw my posts, too.  My four year-old daughter was escorted to her first dance by her father, who was just as excited as she was.

We got the invitation a month ago, and before even asking my daughter if she wanted to go, my husband was all in.  But would my daughter want to attend?

Do unicorns fart rainbows?

Of COURSE she wanted to go.  How could she not want to attend The Ball of the Elementary School circuit?

Let’s consult some criteria for my little girl’s party attendance, shall we?:

  • Would she be able to dress up?  Yes.
  • Would this be an excuse for glitter?  Of course.
  • Would she be able to eat cake and spin and twirl to the brink of vomit?  Absolutely.

My daughter is a girlie girl.  One who bites at that Disney romanticism of princesses and balls and true love hook, line and sinker.

She loves wearing dresses.  If it sparkles, it’s beautiful in her eyes.  There are enough princess costumes in our house to outfit an entire preschool class.

And yet, she also has a hard edge that I love about her.  She likes pink and purple, but her favorite outfit du jour is her all-black goth ensemble.  My little girl rocks a tutu over jeans like nobody’s business.  She would wear my son’s old Darth Vader costume in a heartbeat.

Still, she’s a firm believer that date nights require shunning pants in lieu of more frilly attire.

So, we went to a department store and picked out a dress for her big night.  It was understated, with just enough sparkles, but with plenty of fabric to fan out like a tent when she spun around.

As we stood in line to check out, she asked what I would be wearing when her brother and I went on our big night out while she was at the dance – Steak ‘n’ Shake and the LEGO movie.  I told her “probably jeans and a sweater.”

Oh no…you can’t go like that.  Here, Mommy.  HERE’S what you need to wear on your date with my brother…

And then, she dragged me to a mannequin donning a floor length, single-shoulder, pink and orange ombré prom gown with a bedazzled waistline and shockingly asymmetrical back cutout.  Oh, and don’t forget the train.

I respectfully declined.  Can you imagine showing up to the 6:45 LEGO movie, surrounded by tween boys, in sequins and chiffon?

But I digress. Back to my daughter….

She knew that the Father Daughter dance was a special occasion.  One she’d get to play dress-up for.  We even went to a kiddie salon and got her hair done for her big date.  Because Mommy has two styles in her arsenal:  Down.  And disheveled ponytail.

However, I was concerned that I was feeding in to the beauty frenzy.  Fueling that all-too-well-known insecurity and concern with appearances.  That I was sending her the wrong message.

So in exchange, I went well out of my way to let her know that she didn’t need a sparkly dress, fancy hair or a schmear of lipstick to be gorgeous.  That she was a strong, smart girl who was beautiful inside and out, just the way she was.

But you know what?  She didn’t care.  She wanted to be transported.  For one night, she wanted to feel like a princess.  Glamorous.  Fancy.  With a touch of gloss.  And I’m glad I got to help her feel special for that Father Daughter dance.  Feminism be damned!

Well…just for one night.

Let’s just hope that whatever date she happens to bring to her first real dance, he’s as excited and adoring and gentlemanly as her father.


Has your daughter attended a Father/Daughter dance?  Did she find it magical?

Be sure to continue the conversation by leaving a comment below, on or .

Faint of heart…

My blog posts have some to a screeching halt after finding out that my father, at age 62, is having some heart problems (once again) and will require open-heart surgery and quadruple bypass to fix some initial grafts that were put in from his first open heart surgery 18 years ago. He’s fine, it’s not emergency surgery, but I think he’s battling some depression after sitting on his ass for about a week, awaiting his surgery date. I am going out to be with him post-op since I can’t be there for the surgery. I’ll be performing with K. Keep him in your thoughts, would ya?