All I Want in Life, by Quinn

Skip the stuffed animals. Delay the toy trucks. Forget the college fund. What I want is a long, long coffee table. Preferably about chest height when I pull myself up. Beveled edges would be nice for when I accidentally let go and scrape my nose on the side. On this table, I would like you to place at least six freshly delivered magazines with glossy covers. Don't try to trick me with old catalogs, I can tell the difference. Nothing crinkles like this week's People Magazine, or dad's newest issue of Rolling Stone. Place the magazines at regular intervals around the coffee table, within my reach. I will then crawl over to the coffee table, pull myself up by the fingernails, reach for each magazine in turn, fling them onto the floor, turn around and make sure everyone is watching me and grinning. Then I will slowly lower myself until my diapered bottom hits the carpet. I will chase down these magazines one by one and tear off their covers. Then we will all be very, very happy.