Tonight was the Daddy Daughter Valentine's Day Dance in our town.
Rebecca didn't want to go because that level of noise often gives her a headache. She went to her usual dance class instead.
Earlier in the week Lily announced that she did not wish to go to the dance, she wanted to go to gymnastics. She would not be dissuaded.
She would not be dissuaded that is, until this afternoon when she issued a new proclamation:
"Even though I have been very crabby with Daddy all morning, I would like to go to the Daddy Daughter Dance with him."
I sprang into action. David was alerted that his presence would be required. Lily was bathed, her hair was washed and curled and a Valentine dress was put on.
She was so lovely and happy.
I should have paid more attention to these pictures though.
Had I paid closer attention to these pictures I might have been able to warn David.
I was too distracted by her cuteness to notice that perhaps something was brewing...
I took some pictures of David and Lily...
And sent them on their way.
All was lovely at home. Just me, the dogs and some chicken tikka masala for dinner. Bliss...which lasted thirty minutes.
And then the phone rang.
"Will you please convince your daughter not to leave the dance?" David asked.
He put Lily on the phone and she cried and cried. She didn't want to dance, none of her friends were there and she wanted to come home.
"But Lily," I said, "There will be cake!"
"I don't care!" she sobbed. "I want to come home!"
And so they came home. Lily cried and then she had a bath and some snacks and cried some more.
Meanwhile, as David was getting ready to leave to go pick up Rebecca I said, "Why don't you take Rebecca to the dance?"
Such brilliance! David grabbed Rebecca's fancy dance frock and fetched her from class and asked her to the dance. She was happy to oblige.
They had a lovely time. They danced. They had cake. No one cried.
And so the night ended, one daughter happy and one crazy, both loved.