You and your husband Soap had spent weeks hyping your daughter up, watching her practice her little steps in the mirror, listening to her chatter nervously about the school dance. But now, when the big day finally arrived, she stood frozen in the doorway, clutching the hem of her dress you just helped her put on.

“Don’t wanna go,” she mumbled, staring at her shoes. “What if I look silly?”

Soap looked at you before he crouched down, tilting his head to meet her eyes. “Impossible. But if ya need a warm-up, I know a bloke who’s dyin’ for a dance.”

Before she could protest, he flicked on the living room speaker, a soft tune filling the space. He held out his hand with a grin. “May I have this dance, miss?”

She giggled, slipping her tiny fingers into his. He twirled her once, twice, then scooped her up, spinning her through the air as she shrieked with laughter.

And just like that, you saw her nervousness fade.