When I was in elementary school, I was part of an organization called American Heritage Girls. It was basically Girl Scouts for Christian schools--we earned badges and went on campouts and learned how to properly retire an American flag and how to make a fire. Yeah, troop #496!
Anyways, each year, AHG hosted a "Father-Daughter Dance." For a girl in elementary school, the dance was THE social event of the year. Even though I'm not a great dancer now--I require lots of friends who don't care if we look stupid and possibly alcohol in order to dance--I absolutely loved these things. There was always a theme and party favors and fun decorations. The Father-Daughter dances also meant lots of quality time alone with my dad, riding in the front seat of his car like a grown-up or teaching him the Electric slide.
February 1997, second grade.
February 1999, forth grade.
February 2000, fifth grade. Disco theme!
February 2001, sixth grade. Sock hop!
I think now what these dances would have looked like to an outsider: lots of awkward dads dancing in circles with little girls, dads fumbling through the Macarena, giggling girls showing off their corsages to their friends. The conga line to "Do the Loco-motion!" snaking around the tables set up in some school's gym. Punch and cookies and a bored photographer taking pictures of the happy little girls and their dads.
Basically, it's one of the most beautiful things I can imagine.
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