“That would be fun for the two of you”, says Jennie, while I’m thinking the exact opposite. I’ve never been the dance floor type. I prefer a movie night, where you sit quietly, and there is definitely no rhythm involved. Thoughts like ‘Maybe it will sell out before she gets tickets’ and ‘maybe she’ll forget (she never forgets)’ and ‘maybe our pastor will be involved in a huge scandal and our church will disband before the dance happens (it could happen)’ started creeping into my head. But I knew this was happening.

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When I saw that my daughter, Chloe, was excited about it, I knew I was a little excited too. After all, we have a good time together. She still holds the title of ‘Adventure Buddy’ from our DisneyWorld vacation in 2009 (best vacation EVAR!)

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Our evening began with a visit to Whataburger because it was on the way (ladies choice). We caught up on current events - who has reposted the funniest things on Instagram and what things she wants to buy this week. During that meal, Chloe was also my first-ever model for the ‘girls with swords’ internet meme that began right there in Whataburger. It’s a long back-story, and the five people that are aware of the meme think it’s awesome.

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To the dance! First stop, daddy-daughter photo shoot. We waited in line behind this girl in bright red pumps, ad sporting a short little white dress with bright red cherries printed all over it who was there with her grandfather, and I was thinking ‘Awww, sweet.’ Then, at the front of the line, she turned and it was a fifty-ish year old woman wearing some younger girls’ dress who was there with her dad, and then I was thinking ‘Hurm, now I don’t know how I feel’. Chloe and I made goofy bug-eyes at each other and giggled.

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To the chariot! Next stop, carriage rides through the field. Waiting outside for our carriage got a little chilly, so Chloe ran to the car and grabbed her dad’s ‘leather’ jacket which she wore for the rest of the evening. I flipped her collar up to provide the right amount of attitude, since we were about to show these other couples how a carriage ride is done. We tried to predict which horse we would get on our turn, both of us kind of hoping that we would get the spastic horse that Chloe named Derpy Horse. Derp was not elegant. Derp was like a three-year-old pretending to be a Clydesdale. Derp trotted us around in bouncy, spastic style with his head kind of bobbing and twitching the whole time. We liked Derp.

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To the dance floor! I had delayed the inevitable as long as I could, and we headed toward the flashing lights and bass thumps. But wait, snacks! We can’t possibly head straight to the dance floor without enjoying some cheddar cubes and M&amp;M cookies. After all attempts at procrastination were exhausted, we head to the dance floor. Wait, are you sure you don’t need to use the rest. . . .ok, let’s go. Imagine a big open space, with lots of moving colored lights, a DJ on stage pumping out dance tunes through a really decent sound system, about two hundred suburban dads in all their glory, and an equal number of young girls from ages five and up hopped up on free cookies. It’s the stuff sitcoms are made of.

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We made up dances, we bobbed around, we got silly, and we tried not to crash into too many other rythmless, uncoordinated dads. We had a lot of fun challenging each other to see who could dance the goofiest while maintaining an expression that was completely devoid of joy or mirth. This is surprisingly difficult for fun-loving eleven year old – as it should be. We even slow-danced while she put her feet on top of my shoes, like they do in the movies. Chloe is a rock-n-roll girl who isn’t in to Justin Bieber or One Direction, so a lot of our dancing was a bit on the mocking side, but it was good-hearted fun.

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We cut out before the DJ obliged a third request for the Cupi Shuffle. Seeing that many people go in so many different directions to the same set of instructions is only funny twice. The third time it starts to get sad. We ended the evening with some Menchie’s frozen yogurt and a teasing photo back to Mom to rub it in that we were enjoying forbidden late-night sweets – and she wasn’t.

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I hope she had as good a time as I did. I’m down for next year if she is. Unless Jennie forgets to buy the tickets. Which would be cool too. Then, we could just go to a movie or something.

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*****

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