The Father-Daughter Dance

Last night it was the Malibu’s Who’s Who of fathers and daughters out for the annual Valentine’s Father-Daughter dance. It’s a ticket that’s so difficult to get that people were actually scalping them online and in the local Malibu weekly newspaper.

It's a fun time, preceded with a new dress and fancy hair and make-up appointment (for Ava), dinner, and then the main event; the big dance.


I’m writing about it here because, at one point in the evening, as Ava and I tried unsuccessfully to assemble one good “Macarena” and later faked it clumsily through “Born to Hand Jive,” I realized how much more fun it is to figure out moves like this when you have someone there to watch (and laugh at) you. We were sweating, jamming, and laughing at each other and the other dads as we barked in unison to "who let the dogs out?"

Later that night after Ava went to bed I thought about how so many people who get together to do Turbo Jam and Yoga Booty Ballet must have a similar experience, clumsily trying the moves first, celebrating together when they finally get it. (“Bad Kitty – Yeah!”) That's got to be a fun way to engage in body-transformation.

I think it’s possible that this is the attraction of the message boards too, where people can laugh together about how a move might appear if their were someone in the living room watching, or ask the questions about a move that they would otherwise be embarrassed to ask at a gym… “How do I swing my leg through to runner’s pose?”

I also imagine this is what we have to look forward to when we all go down to Miami for Tony’s fitness camp March 31st. We’ll be experimenting with some new moves, getting tips on the ones we never got right in the first place. And maybe someone can take me step-by-step through the Macarena.