"May I have the first dance!"

This would be my first dance ever. Oh, I went to my Senior Prom, but with a group of guys, and never had a dance. In my elementary years my parents had signed waivers so that I didn't have to attend P.E. classes when dance was taught. I come from a rather strict Amish-Mennonite background; and my first 'real' dates took place after h.s. graduation. So I was a bit mystified and terrified when I accepted my 8yr. old granddaughters invitation to take her to the annual "Brownie Dance!" Was I going to make a fool of myself and embarrass my granddaughter, would I stumble over her feet, or worse yet step on them. Finally the pressure became too much and so I consulted a couple buddies of mine in church who were veterans of these brownie dances. Don't worry Rob told me, once you get there the girls all get together and have a great time and the adult men just stand around and talk about weather, sports etc.

Was that ever misguided information. My precious granddaughter, who made Jon Benet look like a runner up, in her new black dress with a white lily collar wasn't about to let Grandpa feel like a wall flower. After a wonderful, interesting meal at Paniera's we arrived at the dance. Then they took our picture, and I'm really starting feel like something special by now. Once inside the gym my granddaughter saw a friend and rushed over to greet her, then she remembered she was with Gramps. Hurrying back to my side, she apologized for leaving me alone; I was floored by the sincere concern that she had left me on my own - wasn't it suppose to be the other way around. For the next hour and half she rarely left my side, even bringing me desserts and water from time to time... if this was what "going to the dance" was all about I had missed a lot in my school years! Of course, those young ladies would have had a challenge in competing with my granddaughter. What an experience for grandpa's to dance with their young g.daughters, tears gathering in your eyes as they look into yours - the innocence, the trust, the love.

Finally as the last half hour started, my granddaughter looked at me and said, "Gramps, I'm going to spend some time with my two friends on the dance floor, and this would probably be a good time for the adults to take a break!" Do ya think, I wanted to shout?????? .... if only this idea had occurred to her a half hour sooner; I smiled and tried to put on a little disappointed look, but I think I failed .. and
she happily skipped off to dance away the last half hour with friends, while I held her shoes and reflected over the night's adventure. It took little reflection for me to know that "I wouldn't have traded this night for Anything!" I hadn't tripped over, or stepped on her feet [okay, I stepped on her foot one time], or fell down. But I had certainly moved parts I'd forgotten were attached, and delighted to find out some rusty, creeky parts still moved.
Dancing with granddaughters isn't so scarry, if anything its beyond imagining!