This is my entry to 
Brittany sat apart from the rest of the family, happily licking her rainbow sherbet cone.
"What's pre-coke-shush mean?" Connor piped up.
Jennifer and Charles looked at their ten-year-old son. His rocky road ice cream was melting in its cup. They looked at each other. Charles began, but calmly now. "It just means Brittany is clever is all."
"Is that all, Chuck?" Jennifer's voice still had the desperate urgency under her whisper. "When she stopped us at the crosswalk to look both ways, we thought it was cute, and then that motorcycle sped by from out of nowhere. And when you were hungry and she seemed to produce that lambsquarter out of nowhere."
Charles dropped his voice. "What are you saying, Jen? That she's prescient?"
Connor spoke sotto voce, too. "What's pre-sent? We're sending Brittany somewhere?"
"We're not sending your sister anywhere, Connor." Charles stopped him, "We're just trying to figure out if she should spend so much time on the internet."
"That's patently untrue, Chuck. Don't lie to our kids." Jennifer scolded. "I'm open to the idea that either or both of our kids has superpowers, and I think they're old enough to think about it themselves."
Connor's eyes grew big. "What's mine?"
Charles sighed with frustration. "Probably nothing, kid. Your mom and I are geeks, but," he added a tone of imperative impatience to his voice, "we're also skeptics."
Charles and Jennifer sat back and looked over at Brittany, who was cheerfully sucking the drippy sherbet out of the bottom of the cone.
"We can't know for certain, yet, so let's table this and get some vegetables in the kids." She ruffled Connor's hair.
Charles nodded. "I love you and your willingness to believe in the exceptionalism of our offspring."
"Thanks for that, Skepticalman!"
"Is it laser eyes? Do I have laser eyes?"
