It's also very rare for my dad to dance with me. I considered myself lucky when I got half a dance with him at my brother's wedding and another half at my best friend's wedding.
But my dad and I will break into song, something from church where we both sing in the choir. And boy have we gotten some strange looks from folks over the years.
Dance with her at every occasion you can.
He danced with her held securely at his hip, one arm around Lindsay while his wife kept one arm around him and the other on their daughter's back.
He danced with her when she could only place her tiny feet on his and her hands locked around his fingers.
He danced with her at family and friend's weddings, when she looked so pretty in her fancy dresses and hair-dos.
He watched her dance when he supervised school dances; he knew not to even think about dancing with her then.
He danced with her on stage, after her recitals as she would try to teach him the routines and he would deliberately get them wrong to see that cute little frown appear on her face as she tried to teach him once again.
But his favorite times of all to dance were when a song would come on the radio in the privacy of their home. Lindsay or he would be cooking, the other most likely looking over lab results or some other work. And Lucy would come waltzing up, seize his hands from whatever task he was performing and pull him to the open space of the floor.
And he danced with her, spinning her around and lifting her up into the air only to spin her again until they were both breathless with exertion and laughter.