My fifteen-year old daughter has superpowers. No, she can’t leap over a building in a single bound, and she doesn’t sport a flashy Iron Girl suit. But her ability to taste food or judge music in a heartbeat is an amazing super-power. Prepare to be awed.
Superheroes fill our silver screens, and each has their own unique power. So why does my daughter deserve a spot in the Avengers?
First, she can taste food without actually putting it in her mouth. I discovered this amazing ability one night after laboring for hours to prepare a delicious dinner.
“I hate this. This is horrible,” she proclaimed before the plate had even been set in front of her.
“I worked for hours on that,” I growled as my wife rolled her eyes. “You could at least try it.”
The girl picked the slightest morsel from her plate. She brought it up, close to her tongue. Closer. Closer. And when it appeared it might have actually made contact, she jerked the fork away as if it were an electrified cattle prod.
“It’s horrible,” she declared. “And it smells like butt.”
There was contention over whether or not there was food-tongue contact. My family uses the same instant replay system employed by the NFL, so dinner was halted while the incident was reviewed.
After several tense moments, the referees declared the video inconclusive, and dinner continued.
Later that night, in bed, I was thinking about my daughter’s super-power. “It’s really a unique gift,” I remarked to my wife.
“At least I’ve got leftovers for lunch tomorrow,” she replied. I imagined her eye roll in the dark.
I soon discovered this ability to render prescient judgement wasn’t restricted to food. My daughter could apply it to music as well.
I was picking her up after one of her dance rehearsals, and before she even was halfway in the car door, she asked: “Can I change the radio?”
I was astounded. She had barely heard one note of my beloved jam, and already she had reached for the dial and was turning. One note! Sometimes I actually listen to an entire song – and then maybe twice – before passing judgement.
Yet in one note, she had condemned the song, the artist, and probably the entire genre of respective music. Amazing.
My mind raced as I pondered applications of her super-powers. Perhaps they could extend into other types of snap judgements. She could predict the stock market, the Super Bowl, even tomorrow’s dew point. The more I thought about it, the more fearful I became.
If others discovered her unique abilities, they would try and wrest her from our home. They would exploit her powers, most likely for evil purposes. Most importantly, they would figure out which restaurants to eat at before even getting into the car.
No, they won’t take her. We’re holed up, here in the house, and I’m guarding the door with a shotgun and a pissed off wiener-dog.
Some people might think it’s great to be a superhero. But it’s not. It stinks. Or, as my daughter would so eloquently phrase it: It smells like butt.