Last night was my last elementary school dance with my daughter Tabitha. Aaargh. I awoke with some sadness yesterday morning . . . It seems like only a moment ago when we were attending for the very first time–actually it was five years.
A few observations: Tabs no longer stands on my feet when we slow dance. It took her three times as long to get ready for the dance as it did in first grade. She danced a lot more with her friends (though I was still an important partner). I didn’t have to “take her” to the bathroom. At dinner (prior to the dance) she ordered steak instead of a hotdog. In first grade she carried a purse that was empty–in fifth grade there was actually a bit of make-up in it. As with every dance we attended, the evening concluded and she said, “Daddy, this night just went too fast.” Yes it did honey. Yes it did.
I can symphathize with you. At the last daddy/daughter dance I went to with my 8 year old daughter, I spent most of the night watching her run around with her friends and have a great time. When I tried to pick her up and dance with her she would get embarresed. The older we get as parents the faster the time seems to go.