My husband does not dance, not even a little. He pretended to, when he was pitching woo but really, he would rather see how many beans he can stick up his nose.
Until now. Imagine my delight when our Daisy troop leader announced that the Girl Scouts were sponsoring a father/daughter dance. I could barely contain my excitement. Finally, he was going to receive an offer he could not refuse. Emma was beside herself with joy, because she does dance, more than a little. She asked him to please practice "his Elvis moves" and watched "Dancing with the Stars" to cop some dance sequences.
Finally the big night arrived. Scott appeared inscrutable and I began to worry, just a bit. Could he possibly turn his daughter down? I wished all parties involved the best of luck and headed out to soccer practice with my son. We got back first and waited for Fred and Ginger to arrive home. Emma burst through the door with this exclamation "Daddy is a great dancer...he twirled me up and around and we didn't fall once."
All these years I thought my husband could not/would not dance, it seems he was just holding out for the right partner.