Writing for different commentators and show hosts is not as easy as it would seem. Research can bog you down in some deep and sometimes melancholy moods. This morning has been one of those mornings. I have been doing some research for a large piece and the research subject was dragging my mood down. I needed a break.
My 7 yo, Sarah, reminded me in her special way that I told her I would make homemade donuts this morning. "Dad... dad....dad... when are making the donuts... dad....dad... donuts, dad....daddy... are you coming?....Dad... I'M STARVING FOR DONUTS, DAD!"
"FINE! I'm making the donuts!!!"
I was doing some serious Papa Bear grumbling... that is until a 7 year old princess spins into the kitchen and asks me to please zip up her dress. I asked her why she was wearing her fancy dress and she said "I'm a dancing princess today and you are my dancing daddy."
She put her CD player on the floor of the kitchen and held her small hands up to me and smiled; I suddenly became a Dancing Dad.
We danced to her favorite Taylor Swift songs first and she taught me how it's important for little girls to stand on their daddy's feet while they dance so that they don't accidently get stepped on. As I listened to the words of the song I wondered how I was going to react when "Romeo" came to steal my dances with my Princesses.
Then we danced around to some crazy techno music and I showed off my best robot dance. She laughed so hard as I tried to do the Moonwalk.
Her big sister showed up in her fancy dress and shoes and I danced with my 12 year old daughter. I taught her some steps of a Samba and I watched her and realized suddenly that she was emerging from being a little girl into a beautiful young woman as she danced there in the kitchen. Her eyes flashed sparks as she smiled at me and I could sense that she would not be my little girl for much longer, but that it was ok, because she would always be my Princess.
As another techno song came on I stepped back and watched as my two beautiful young daughters transformed into princesses and danced together in the kitchen... spinning and smiling and swirling and clattering about in their fancy shoes. I was no longer a man having a difficult day, I was a Dancing Dad who was dancing with some real live Princesses. How can there be no hope, after all?
I believe there is hope because princesses still dance with their dads.