My Father Loves to Dance

My father loves to dance. He might try to escape every time he sees me in the hall with a playful glint in my eye, but I know that he loves it when I give him a “dance lesson.” In fact, he even wrote a blog entry about the joys of dancing (he may not have said it in so many words, but I can read between the lines.) I went home this weekend, and as I was getting ready for bed, my mom came into the room. Since there is a song constantly playing in my head, I take her hands and begin dancing. My dad walks into the room to tell me good night when he instantly turns away and walks down the hall as fast as possible. I race out of the room to try and catch him. Hearing me crash into the hall wall, he looks over his shoulder and sees me barrel out of the room. His fast walk turns into a desperate run. I almost catch him as I try to wedge my foot in his door before he can close it, but he was a tad bit quicker. Therefore, I only do what any other youngest child would do. I began begging. “Please open the door Daddy! I just want a good night hug!” After a couple of minutes, he finally opens the door a few inches, sticks out his arm and pats me on the back. Then he lets me stick my arm in the door to return the “hug.” I knew that deep down he really wanted to dance, but since it was late, and Sonrise Service was the next morning, he didn’t want me to be tired. What a thoughtful dad. I’ll have to return the thoughtfulness today with an extra-long dance lesson.