To me, the Dad’s Dance is a very special event that I took very seriously. All year long, the girls dedicated themselves to learning new moves, becoming more graceful and confident in dance. We Dads have about six weeks to learn a dance and look like we know what we’re doing. The better we look, the more we understood the patience, care, and dedication of the Dance Teachers, (Miss Aimee, Miss Vicki, Miss Jean, and Miss Angela). As “afraid” as we were about screwing up, letting our daughters down was not an option. Sometimes we had to fake it, but we tried our best and gave it all we could.
Of course, being typical Dads, we had a good time. We made smart comments about the songs (country, ugh), hated some of the costumes (like the year we wore disco clothes or danced in boxer shorts), busted each others chops, but we learned the dance, even knowing that as much as the audience loved us, some people didn’t. They felt we took away the girls’ thunder; after all the blood, sweat and tears they put in all year. Or that we didn’t take it seriously. But those people missed the big picture. The members of Dancin’ Dad’s didn’t care if people laughed. We were doing it for our daughters, because they wanted to dance with us.
My daughter loves the performing arts. She has danced for 11 years, sung in two choirs, had roles in three plays and is a member of JITS (Junior International Thespian Society). In the fall, she is going to be a freshman in high school and is planning on joining the Drama Club. With the challenges of going to a new school, the increase in studying, and with drama a 10 month commitment, there isn’t enough time to devote to dance.
I’ll miss Dance. I’ll miss the camaraderie. I’ll miss the practices. I’ll miss the rehearsals (but not the costumes). But most of all, I’ll miss the hours I spent with my little girl, dancing the night away.
