She has skills...

I was once told that the owner of the Cheesecake Factory has a perfectly pitched palette. He allegedly could determine the exact recipe of an entrée by merely tasting it on the tip of his tongue. He also weighed about 450 pounds, so too much of anything can be bad for you.

And although the Cheesecake Factory is not my favorite place to eat, I admire this man and his skills. I would love to meet him and take him to events with me. Imagine how impressed everyone would be when he told them exactly what is in the fondue. OK, it is not too hard to guess that cheese may be in the fondue, but now you would know once and for all why it is so tasty.

If I could pick a skill, it would have to include some ability to listen to a song on the radio and instantly be able to sing it, verbatim, at a perfect pitch. How great would that be? I hear a song, record it in my mind and then stand up in Chilies and belt it out.

In fact, it would not matter where it was. People would love to hear hits from the 70s, 80, 90s and today sung in front of their eyes. They would be in such awe that they would most likely forget that they were eating dinner with their family before I barged in unannounced, and sat down at their dining room table.

I am not the only one in my family who likes to sing. Cali is the youngest of my five children and can sing for six hours without taking a break. And while this may not be as noteworthy as a perfectly pitched palette, I did witness it first hand yesterday.

Without as much as a pause for refreshment, Cali sang and sang and sang. I would have been proud, if I had not been the cause of her "excitement." Earlier in the day, I was simply minding my own business, watching the second half of the Giants/Eagles game, when I decided to enjoy a Red Bull.

Holly and I had made the choice to run in the morning and I was feeling fantastic. I drank one, which led to two. But two, unlike what all of you are thinking, turned into too much, which left my glass sitting on the coffee table behind the couch.

Being super perceptive, I turned around and saw Cali fishing out the ice from my drink and putting it in her mouth. At this point, I did not know how much ice she had eaten. I would soon find out, it may have been a lot. She began singing and singing and singing. She would not stop. She also did not sit down. She was on fire. A Red Bull fire.

Before you send me hundreds of outraged comments about "How I should be more careful and I should not give Red Bull to a baby" and "It’s a good thing I don’t do crack, because who knows where I would leave it laying around," you need to simply remember that if it were not for Red Bull and its ability to enhance my "efforts," Cali would not be here at all.

So I think we have learned a tremendous lesson today.

Focus on your kids talents and not your own and, while you are at it, tell them to get their own drinks, it's a lot easier that way.