Shut up.” A hidden superpower.

Today my 10-year-old spoke passionately about a goal. I think I did the right thing. Something that doesn’t come naturally. I shut up. This was hard. Don’t believe me? Ask my mother, my brother, or sister. Wait, don’t ask her. Or you can ask, but expect an earful. Don’t worry, I’ll apologize later, but get this …

Back in our day kids dreamed of becoming a famous athlete, actor, or singer maybe? And over time reality crept in and made tweaks as needed. I learned in middle school that “world-class high jumper" was not in the cards after my track coach asked: “Clue, do you play an instrument?”

FYI, I mostly took third, fourth, and fifth place ribbons in middle school track meets. I wasn’t great and wonder if I wasn’t as enamored with the activity as I was in part because of one of my early heroes of different thinking and his story.

Dick Fosbury is quite simply the Galileo of high jumping. Somehow, he was able to look at fifty years of doing one thing in one way and say, “Yeah, I don’t think they're doing it right.” There’s almost no parallel example. Even basketball players still shoot looking at the basket. Well, most of the time.

I thought this was the epicenter of cool and wanted to try and master what brought Mr. Fosbury a gold medal, fame, and the flop forever named the Fosbury Flop. And yes, I probably did play the piano better than I high-jumped but still never well enough to think either were a career option. And would never think to tell my parents what I wanted to do in the way my daughter tossed me a good one a week ago. It’s a new category.

She says. “Dad, I want to be a YouTuber.” I froze. Actor, singer, dancer, goalie. Hmm, YouTubers get very few concussions, but I was still struggling with it.

As any parent can attest, there are as many wannabe YouTubers now as kids who hope to dunk in the NBA or be coached by Miley Cyrus on "The Voice."

She says, “Dad, it’s a real thing." I clear my throat and burp. She says, “I think I’d be pretty good, too.” Time to freeze-frame and review. Below and in no particular order: my thoughts.

• “Where did I go wrong?”

• “This is COVID's fault."

• “Can I blame her mother?”

• “Can a well-written letter shut down YouTube?”

• "Yes, this is COVID's fault."

• "How can I delicately crush her dream forever?"

I think that actually might have been the order. But as noted above, I said nothing unless burping and squinting counts.

She shrugs and looks at me. “I’m just saying.” And if not for eyes filled with Gidget levels of hope and dumb innocence, I no doubt would have shot off shock and awe levels of dismissal missiles and dream crushers.

And in case you’re wondering up until now I hadn’t allowed even a video of our cat to be uploaded to YouTube. My ego couldn’t handle our cat’s comedy going viral while I sit home waiting for unemployment — that would be too much to bear, right?

And yet my policy was tagged as selfish and puritanical. I’d become the preacher, my daughter was Kevin Bacon, and the cat video yet to be posted was an immortal sin of an unknown fanbase wanting to dance! ("Catloose," coming to a theater near you. OK, probably not.)

Inside I dance, shut up, and pretend to listen as she tells me about LaurenzSide, "one of her faves!" (Please don’t Google that name and start my parent shame parade just yet. Believe me, I will join it after the lockdown is lifted.)

But I think you’ll approve of my next move. I said: "In exchange for screen-testing your obvious YouTube talents, I only request three months of Khan Academy coding and long division drills, or the equivalent."

She says, “Khan Academy doesn’t do coding.”

I say "Perfect, show ’em how it’s done."

We Made a Video

So, we made a little video together that will debut on Facebook only. Keep an eye out for that. Shhhhh! I know I’m weak, but we needed to get out and lately the offer to walk to closed parks has become a tough sell.

I know, I know: “You should practice becoming a YouTuber,” said no parent ever. But we are outside laughing and talking.

I ask if she’s had other career thoughts. She fires off “Chibi anime cartoonist" followed by “super cool hair color-er.” And asked if “hair-color-person” was a real job?”

I said “Sure, why do you ask?”

She said, “Well, I like the coloring but not the cutting.”

I suggested she post on TaskRabbit, “Seeking styling partner who disdains coloring.”

She said, “What’s 'disdains?'" Oh goodness, I thought, you’ll know soon enough, and it most likely depends on how much longer we chat about LaurenzSide.

I flashback to all the times my parents surely held their tongue and let me Fosbury Flop my way forward. I can tell that today her mind's filled with more questions than park closings. A good day.

Today’s post celebrates saying less and the undervalued power of “shutting up.” At least for a while.

I’m going to call my sister. She might not be happy, but she’ll pick up.