When one sits down and attempts to compose a list of torture devices used to inflict pain and suffering, a number of them come immediately to mind. The Iron Maiden (not the old band, but the torture device), Waterboarding, The Rack, and many more have served mean spirited groups and people over the years. Few know, however, that there is one that has been specifically designed for me. It’s a little thing called The Daddy Daughter Dance.
Now before you think that I’m a terrible father who doesn’t want to spend time with his daughter, cool your jets for a second. I love my daughter. I love spending time with my daughter. I just wish it didn’t involve an event that brings about excruciating pain both during and after the event. It is really not my fault, the fault lies clearly with my body.
Friends of the blog know that I have a pretty bad back…like really bad. Think of experiencing pain with walking and even shifting in a chair. The pain itself is controlled by medicine so it is not that in and of itself that’s the problem. The problem is that due to the condition, physical exercise is pretty much out of the question. This results in paperwork being filed by my back, legs and knees requesting a cease and desist court action whenever I try to do something “out of the ordinary.”
Enter this modern torture event called the Daddy Daughter Dance. As the stereotypical white guy, I’m not hip in terms of dancing. Heck, I had whatever hip I had removed early in my childhood and the hop portion of hip-hop is demonstrated by my monster 3 cm vertical. Yep, I’m terrible and I know it. So you enter a physical liability like mine and, well, you’ve got a good thing in the form of a built-in excuse to be terrible and a bag thing in that everything ends up hurting like hell.
I know what you’re thinking. Just do something else with your daughter. Nope…no can do. I’ve got the Mommy Mandate that I think is legally binding and I’d find myself in serious breach of contract territory if I couldn’t make it.
I just wish there was some other event that didn’t result in pain. How about the Daddy Daughter Board Game Bash? The Daddy Daughter Minecraft Marathon? The Daddy Daughter Star Wars Movie Viewing Extravaganza? Now those events sound like reasonable alternatives and things that we both could enjoy.
Truly though, it makes my daughter happy and that is what is important. And though you might as well ink my name on the disabled list for the rest of the weekend, I’ll enjoy the time I spend with her. I just have to remember to keep my mouth shut around my wife…her patience level for others in pain isn’t exceptionally high so she’ll end up getting mad at me for being in pain. So “uiet-qay ithway the uchoway” for this weekend (that’s “quiet with the ouch talk” for those not well versed in pig-latin).
So…On With The Dance!