Usually my daughter keeps me at a comfortable distance, only buddying up to her dad when she wants something ... a Slurpee ... a new Lego set ... Disney merchandise. Or so it seems to me.
But somehow the stars aligned in my favor and Lucy agreed to let me accompany her to this evening's Father/Daughter & Mother/Son Dance at her school.
The affair was quite nice, with parents and kids in their snappiest outfits, elaborate Valentine's decor, a dessert buffet, photo booth, strobe lights and a DJ spinning the latest, most dance-tastic tunes. And the beat got me groovin'.
"I'm going to start dancing now," I told my girl.
"No you're not," she blurted. "Please!"
But as the night progressed, so did her willingness to boogie. And we danced together. We really did. She twirled and shimmied, and I tried really hard not to look stupid. She even gave me an unsolicited hug after one song.
"This is fun!" she said.
I actually think she enjoyed hanging with her old man. At least that's how I'll remember it.