Grampy Lash

It’s Friday night and I’m on my way to a Mardi Gras dance with my dates. That’s right. Dates. Plural. My wife knows about this too. We have an open relationship, no secrets, and she is fully aware of what I am doing. Two of my granddaughters are securely seat-belted into their booster seats in the back seat, Kidz Bop tunes playing on the radio, and we’re on our way to the big father-daughter Mardi Gras themed dance at Maple Grove Elementary School.

My son, Josh, had called me several days earlier with a casual, but somewhat urgent request. He had to be out of town during the weekend of Ali’s and Haleigh’s father-daughter dance; “Would you like to take them to the dance?”

I arrived precisely at 6:30 to pick them up, hoping to make a good first impression for the evening. Shirt, tie, double-breasted blazer,nose and ear hair trimmed, and two dainty bracelet corsages – and a bag of Grammy’s gluten free pretzels for Zoey who would not be going with us. Of course, they weren’t quite ready when I arrived, so I took a seat and listened to the girlie-girl chatter from upstairs as their mother crafted their hair into soft golden spirals that would be appropriate for the event.

Eight-year-old Alizabeth was the first to greet me; red dress bow-tied at the waist, black top, and coral blue eyes. She grabbed a chair, shoved it next to the kitchen counter, and climbed up to get her Mardi Gras mask from atop the refrigerator. She quickly modeled the mask for me, and as she was taking it off, Ali smiled coyly and asked, “Do you know why my daddy asked you to take us to the dance tonight?”

“I would love to know!”

“Because you taught him everything he knows,” letting me know how she felt as to the way that I fit into the grand scheme of things. I did have to confess to her that I could only possibly take credit for a very small portion of what her daddy knows (both good and bad I must further confess).

Next came almost-six-year-old Haleigh looking equally radiant; purple dress bow-tied at the waist, black top, sparkling smile framed by her full sweet cheeks, topped off with her tropical blue eyes. She also took the same path to grab her Mardi Gras mask that her daddy had helped prepare.

They seemed a little nonplussed when I presented their corsages to them, but after a brief explanation, the girliness once again took hold and their eagerness to get to the dance propelled us all out the door. We were soon in the truck and on our way, seat belts buckled, Kidz Bops playing softly, and one more soon to be memorable touch; a request from the dark cavernous back seat of my Toyota Tundra pickup truck.

“Can I turn on the light, Popaw?” asked Ali.

“Sure baby girl.”

On came the light, then a soft sigh, followed by, “I feel like I’m riding in a magical carriage to the ball.”

It was a magical evening – and Zoey loved her pretzels!

With love,

S.E. Lash

February 10, 2015