One of my best memories from after my mother died is of my father dressing me to attend a birthday party when I was 3 or 4. The party wasn't until the next weekend and I knew that but he thought it was that day so he's dressing me in my party dress and I'm arguing with him the whole way But I can still feel his arms around me and the comfort of leaning against him and putting my arms in the sleeves of the dress, dress over the head and all that.

So he walks me a couple doors down the block to the house where the party is going to be and then makes me walk to the door while he stays back on the sidewalk! No fair! :-) The woman comes to the door and talks to him over my head, explaining the party is next week and my father's apologizing (to her :-) and we walk home. Never did like party dresses.