So on Saturday Maggie and I went to the Daddy-Daughter Dance. It’s a school sponsored event, for girls I think in kindergarten through 5th grade, and their dads (or significant person in their lives). This was our third, and I realized as we were getting ready that we’ve not had much time of just Daddy/Daughter since last years dance. Where did the year go?

She got all dressed up in her beautiful gown, and had her Mom do her hair up. So pretty. Such a little lady.

I of course wore a suit. The cafeteria was decorated in a very “Valentine’s Day” theme, and very pretty. We got our picture taken, and had cookies and punch, and danced the night away for about 2 hours. For the first little while, it was a lot of fast songs, and we had a blast jumping around and dancing, sometimes holding hands and doing “Swing” type dance moves where I’d flip her around and spin her and dip her! It was very funny, and a little surprising, to see how many lyrics she knows! She’s in second grade, but I guess I didn’t expect her to know the lyrics to a lot of pop songs. She did, though, and was singing to a lot of the songs as we danced. “When did she learn these?” I wondered, and reminded myself that she has a lot of time at school, or with friends, or listening to her radio – a lot of time that I’m not with her that she could (and should!) be playing the radio and having fun.

At one point, about an hour or so into the dance, I was left to stand with a couple of other dads, chatting, while she joined a conga line/train and ran around the cafeteria shouting and giggling with about 30 other little girls! I stood with the dads, whom I had met before, and we chatted about how quickly they were all growing up. One said “I’m trying to slow that process down a little bit! I’m not ready to lose these times yet!” and we all nodded, knowing exactly what he meant.

Time. Where does it go?

Then she came back, sweaty and tired, and put her hand in mine. “Dad, do you wanna get some more punch? I’m thirsty!” So we did. Then we hit the dance floor again, just as a set of slow songs came on. (“Dads, this is your chance to rest, from here on out we’re jammin!” warned the dj/hostess.)

And as we slow danced, hand in hand, and I was thinking about the other fathers comment about losing these times too quickly, she said “Dad, can you pick me up?”.
And I did.
And she rested her head on my shoulder, and I held her up, and she snuggled into the crook of my neck. Then she let out a big contented-but-tired-from-running sigh.
“I love you Daddy.”

And for a long beat I just hugged her even tighter, because I didn’t trust myself to speak.

“I love you too, peanut.”

As Eric Clapton’s “Wonderful Tonight” played, I held my little girl, and we swayed in time with 100 other fathers and their little girls.

And, like I imagine a lot of the fathers were doing, I wished for time to slow down.