The Kick Butt Dance

I am a Daddy’s Girl.

When my Daddy’s sister passed away almost 20 years ago, I found him in his room lying on his bed. I crawled up beside him and laid my head on his shoulder. I said, “Just tell me if you want me to go away.” He turned to me with tears in his eyes and said, “That would be like telling a butterfly to go away.” At my wedding, Daddy and I danced to Butterfly Kisses. It was beautiful.

Naturally, when Alice was born, I had high expectations of her relationship with her Daddy. Cliff’s amazement at the birth of his baby girl and his unconditional love were immediate.

Unfortunately, Alice did not attach to her Daddy so quickly. I blamed myself. I nursed her, changed her diapers, got up at night with her. I did everything for her. I never gave him a chance. The older she got, the more it upset me that they didn’t have the kind of daddy/daughter bond I thought they should.

Last February, Alice’s elementary school held their 2^nd Annual Princess Ball (AKA Daddy/Daughter dance). The first year went well. I wasn’t there. This year, I was the Princess Ball Committee Chair. I had to be there. For months, I planned and got increasingly excited about witnessing “The Dance,” that magical bonding moment between my loving husband and his little girl.

The night of the Ball, I made sure Butterfly Kisses was the last song played. I couldn’t wait to capture the super sweet picture of Alice and her Daddy holding each other in their arms, spinning around the room, laughing.

For most of the night, the girls ran around with their friends, leaving the dads standing awkwardly by holding cups of punch and tiny purses/shoes/headbands. As the last song began to play, I searched all over for Alice getting increasingly frustrated as precious seconds ticked away. I finally found her and pushed her onto the dance floor with her Daddy. I tried discretely to capture the moment with my camera but couldn’t get a good angle. Suddenly, Alice stomped off the floor, plopped into a chair and began to cry. Cliff just shook his head. I asked her what happened, and she whined about wanting to go home with a friend. The song ended, and I was furious that the magic moment was ruined. I yelled at her and sent her home with her disappointed Dad. I finished my duties with a heavy heart and cried all the way home.

What did I do wrong? How can I fix this? I have failed my family by not molding Alice into a “Daddy’s Girl” fostering Hallmark moments between the two of them. And tonight, “The Dance” was ruined.

A few days later, I was clearly shown this relationship has nothing to do with me. It cannot be forced into my idea of what it should be. With lots of love, time and commitment, this bond will create itself in its own magical way. Walking into the kitchen that morning, I finally get to witness “The Dance.” Alice and her Daddy are holding arms, spinning around the room, laughing hysterically as they try to kick each other in the butt. We affectionately call it “The Kick Butt Dance.” It is chaotic. It is loud. It is beautiful!