The Magic of Ordinary Household Objects, by Mike

Quinn is at the stage where mundane household objects are as alluring to him as the control panel of a rocket ship. He loves drawer handles. Drawer handles that spin and twist must have been invented by God himself. Watches feature at least three different places to chew. Newspaper isn't just for crumpling and tearing, it's also a healthy source of fiber. Electrical cords always lead somewhere very, very interesting, and must be pulled sharply until results are achieved. But the greatest household love affair of Quinn's short life is the Mysterious Air Vent Under the Stereo. He will be playing on the carpet with his toys, where he spends much of his day, and suddenly he'll catch a glimpse of the Dark Hold in the corner of his eye. He immediately drops the toys he's been chewing, flops over, and starts crawling. Thee sits the dark, filigreed vent, set fetchingly in the middle of an otherwise unbroken wall of gleaming white trim. He scootches forward until his nose is right against the vent. What is behind it? What magical lands exist beyond that wall? What sirens of boyhood sing to him from the air ducts? Someday, someday, his opposable thumbs will develop to the point where he can wield a screwdriver, or better yet, a crowbar. That grate will come off, the gateway to the fourth dimension will be opened at last, and life will seem complete. Until then, stay tuned.