(photo: Kasidy at our special Daddy/Daughter breakfast at The Wooden Spoon last week)
It was about 7:30 at night and we (Tahni and I) were just sitting down for dinner. Tahni made her classic jerked chicken nachos (which, by the way, are very low in fat, full of good veggies, and over baked chips. Anyway . . .). I poured myself a Diet Rite cola with a shot of Jim Beam—it just felt right. We sat on the floor around the ottoman and got ready to peruse some mindless television. Busy day. Kasidy had already eaten and was playing upstairs. Connor was at training.
Just about the time my shoulders dropped and I begin to regulate my breathing from the pace of the day, Kasidy came around the corner with a note. It was an invitation. Handwritten. Fully illustrated.
To: Daddy
From: Kasidy
May I have this dance? Please meet me at 8:00-8:10.
She must have seen I had just sat down to eat so she crossed out her original time which was 7:30-7:40. I looked up at her and she was wearing a pretty little dress. She turned sideways and asked “Daddy, can you zip this up for me?”
I finished my dinner and followed her into Mommy and Daddy’s room where she had chosen to have our special dance. She went over to the iPod in the alarm clock and dialed up her choice of accompaniment. Tonight, we would dance to Alicia Keys.
For ten minutes my world was light. Sweet. Precious. We waltzed (as best we know how) and made up our own moves (she’s quite good I must say). We had a few laughs when she asked me to show her how I used to dance as a teenager. Then, she noticed Alicia Keys say a word we don’t say in our home and she called it to my attention while we both giggled.
As I held that princess close I told her stories about dancing—my memories of High School dances, my first dance with mommy, etc. “I like dancing with you, Daddy” she said. I told her, “Kasidy, when you start going to dances as a teenager I want you to remember these dances. Dances are fun but they are also places where boys like to try to take advantage of girls and act dumb." “Don’t worry, Daddy. Show me again how the boy is supposed to dance with me.”
Oh, Jesus. I love these moments. I can’t even listen to those songs where Daddies watch their little girls grow up real fast. They kill me. Lord, protect this precious, special, creative, emotional, sensitive, artistic, romantic child. Do not let the world rob her and deplete her. And give her the courage and strength to stand tall and make a difference in your kingdom. And keep her dancing. Amen.
