A daddy and his daughter

Last weekend Tom took Mary Virginia to a Father Daughter Dance. As he was getting ready, I encouraged him to put on a suit instead of a sport coat. “Some of the dads will be wearing tuxes, Tom. And come here, look. Elizabeth Phillips has already posted photos. Come look at what Sloan’s wearing.”

Tom didn’t even look at my photo, “Amanda. I think a sport coat is fine. Keep in mind that Mary Virginia is wearing a t-shirt.”

She tries to tilt her head down and to the side like Cinderella

Mary Virginia has a closet full of adorable dresses. Fancy, sparkly, spinny dresses. But when we told her about the Father Daughter Dance, the first thing she said was, “Can I wear my Cinderella shirt?”

So, no, the Cinderella t-shirt with thermal sleeves was not my first choice. But if it’s what she feels most comfortable in, and if it’s how she feels most beautiful and most herself on her special night with her daddy, then who am I to argue with that?

They both had to wet their hair to get their curls under control.

Twirling

Ready to go! She packed six board books, a wooden alligator, a spatula, three rubber ducks, and a night light. Tom’s lucky she brought her own bag, I always make him carry my stuff.

At the dance.

When Cinderella came home from the ball, she had cupcake icing on her skirt and she knew how to do the stanky leg. David, who had previously acted uninterested, shrieked at her, “MARY WHAT DID YOU DO AT THE DANCE?!”

When we finally got her settled into her duck sleeping bag for the night, she was still laughing about Daddy wearing a hat with all the orange hair. And when I fell asleep that night, I was still thinking about how there’s nothing sweeter than a daddy and his daughter.