My parent's church (Calvary Chapel Tri-Cities) hosts an annual Father/Daughter Ball and Todd took Ella this year and my Dad took me. The evening's theme was Alice in Wonderland so we got Ella the cutest little Alice dress and she looked adorable in her Mary Jane's and headband. She talked about "The Ball" for weeks in advance and still dresses up in her "Father/Daughter" finery. The main event was of course the dancing, and while my Dad tried to teach me some of his moves - he's actually a really good dancer - Ella was literally break dancing on the floor. We laughed so hard I thought we were going to pee our pants. The only way we could pry her from the dance floor was to bribe her with chocolate cookies, Sprite and an assortment of other delicacies. She'd stuff her little mouth as fast as she could and before she could even swallow she was dragging her Daddy out to dance again. My Dad and I sat at the table for a while talking and just watching Todd and Ella. When he held her in his arms during the slow dance I thought my heart was going to melt. She had her sweet little head resting on his shoulders, it was priceless. Now for my bitter diatribe. I was never allowed to go to dances growing up, my parent's thought it was trouble waiting to happen, or rather I was trouble waiting to happen. And knowing me, they were probably right. So I thought it was comical that my very first dance was not only when I was 30 years old, but with my DAD as my date. To tell you the truth, I wouldn't have it any other way. He was the 1st man I ever fell in love with so I think I owed him my first dance anyway.
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