Dad Daughter Dates

When I was growing up, my Dad and I had special times together we called DDDs, short for Dad Daughter Dates. We went to the Boundary Waters on canoe trips, took a great trip to Norway when I was in fifth grade, went out for dinner and shopping (he was a softie... I remember convincing him to buy me an entirely wool outfit from Benetton. It was this great sweater and stretch pant ensemble, beautiful and expensive. And itchy. Very itchy. To this day I don't wear wool. My husband splurged one Christmas and bought me a Dale of Norway sweater. I wore it long enough to get a family Christmas picture and then promptly returned it. Life's too short to be that uncomfortable, for that much money).

My mom and I had our own traditions: an annual ski trip with other mothers and daughters (we always got snowed in at a hotel and got to miss extra school: bonus!) and nights out at Chi-Chis Mexican restaurant. My mom would have one strawberry Margarita and talk in funny voices on the car drive home. It was all for show - I'm sure she wasn't driving while tipsy - but I remember it made me laugh a lot.

I'm so thankful that Hubby has taken up the tradition with the girls. They went to a Dad Daughter Dance at our health club on Friday night. The girls were so excited - all giggles and bounciness. I even let them wear some lipstick! You'd of thought they won the lottery. The came home with new dance moves to show off (Did I mention Hubby once won a James Brown Dance Contest in New Orleans?) and memories of a night out with Dad.