Before our wedding, K and I took ballroom dancing course classes. We learned all sorts of moves we’ve now forgotten — rumba, English waltz, Foxtrot, cha-cha, tango, and a few others. We focused especially on the waltz, for newly wedded couples are expected to have the first dance at their wedding party, and it is always a waltz. We learned some fancy steps, some turns, twirls, and all sorts of things to make us look like we knew what we were doing.

And then K chose a dress that restricted her shoulder movement, allowing her to raise her hands to just below her shoulders. Out went all the fancy moves.

In, however, came the possibility of the smiles when K suggests to L that she try on the dress.

“Your wedding dress?” she asked incredulously.

In doing so, K created a new metric of growth and, if we remember, a new tradition.

“We can have you try this on every year to see how you grow,” K suggested.

Still, perhaps once is enough: seeing my little girl in a wedding dress, no matter how ill-fitting the dress and how innocent the poses, was a bit stressful to a father.