Month: February 2025

This one is for the dance dads.

He sat through the entire competition weekend, even though he had other plans. He was awoken at 5am because it was time to start getting ready, so he put the pillow over his head and he didn’t complain. The hotel room lights got turned on a few times too many, even though we had already set out everything we needed for the next morning, but I forgot to steam the costumes and I couldn’t find the new pack of eyelashes.

He watched dance after dance until it was her turn. For those three minutes, he gave her his undivided and I know I saw a tear in his eye and he looked as if his heart could burst with pride. He complains about the time dance requires, but I know for a fact that when she is on that stage, no one is prouder than he is. He had a game pulled up on his phone through half of the day, just like the other dad who was sitting 3 seats away. I didn’t even care – he still chose to drive across the state with us this weekend so he could be here for her, and he sat through 260 dances.

The awards adjudication had started and he couldn’t remember the award system and I couldn’t blame him because sometimes it doesn’t make sense, like why does the order go ‘gold’ to ‘high gold’ but then ‘platinum’ isn’t followed by ‘high platinum’. The next competition will be a completely different awards hierarchy and he will ask the same questions again and drill us about why they can’t all be the same, becuase this time we want a diamond and not a crystal. He doesn’t understand why she can’t just eat the snacks we pack, but he still drove across town to get her favorite meal.

He is used to sports that are games, sports that have a start time and an end time and a score that isn’t objective.  Dance competitions are a marathon. They last all day (and I mean alllll day), but he will sit there all day, because he loves her that much.  

He knows the work she has put into getting here. He has seen her get caught up on her homework after a late night of dance. He has watched the sacrifices she has made to be able to do this thing she loves. He also knows what he paid for it. Every year it will be a point of contention, but every year he will watch her on stage do what she loves most. She spends almost every day at the dance studio to prepare for just five weekends. The competitor in him admires that in her.

He doesn’t understand why she has to have a suitcase that turns into a closet and costs a small fortune, but he let her get. He loads it in the car the morning we leave, but he will always make a comment about it’s size and cost. He will remind us of all the things he doesn’t want us to forget, so he isn’t the one stuck making a special run to go grab the forgotten thing, but every single time, we will forget something. He sighs loudly, reminding us he warned us about this, then he sets out to go find a replacement for the forgotten thing.

Dance dads are a special kind of dad. They give up their weekends of hunting or skiing to come cheer on their dancer. We exhaust their patience and deplete their checking accounts, yet they show up early in the morning with the iced coffees and a smile and the best cheering section of the venue, because they know what this day means to their dancers.

Happy Valentine’s Day to the dad we adore. He rarely gets to go eat at the place of his choosing, because he is almost always outvoted 4-1. He always offers to trade one of us when we order something we don’t like. He lectures me on my tank being too low and we both wonder why he bothers because we both know I’ll be too low again next week (but sometimes he gasses it up for me). He goes to the garage to get the tools we need, whether it’s assembling a Valentine’s box or to pump up a basketball. He eventually gets to his home improvements, but it might take a few years, because he is so busy helping everyone else. (And because he refuses to pay someone else to do something he can do.)  His dream hunting trips are put on the backburner each year for the sports trips. He will sit through a weekend of dance, even though I know he has a hunting tag he wants to fill. He will never spend a dollar on his own clothes, because he spends it on his girls. (Unless you count Sitka or Kuiu, but he ends up letting me wear his hunting coats at the spring soccer games because I’m never prepared, and I secretly think they’re worth it.) He’s allergic to cats, but he doesn’t tell us ‘no’ when we come across a stray.  (He kinda says no, but then kinda changes his mind.) He is our biggest fan. He shows up for us, each and every time, regardless of the day he has had. He coaches our teams and sits at the concerts, clapping the loudest. We are so lucky to be loved by you.