She bought a new dress. She had her nails painted. She wore makeup. Her purse was all sparkles. He wore a new belt and matching socks. He gave her flowers. He spun her around. And he had her home by midnight. Nothing on earth sweeter than a Father-Daughter Dance. On another note, why don’t we have Mother-Son Dances? I’m serious. I want to get dressed up and go dancing with Grady before he’s too old and I look like some creepy mom who can’t let her baby boy grow up. How old is too old, by the way?