13 months and a going concern

As I sat up groggily in bed this morning, while nursing Quinn, I was struck with the realization that it's been 13 months since he's joioned the zoo. Thirteen months since he's brought more laughter and love into our household. And thirteen months since he's triggered more chaos.
Picture, if you will, the cartoon or comedy sketch of a hapless babysitter (usually a dad) left alone with an overly curious child. Usually the child's minder is snoring behind an open newspaper or zoned out to a television set, while the youngster is opening shelves, and dangling his or hand into a fishbowl. No sooner has the babysitter rescued the imp from one disaster and sorted the room to rights, has the wayward toddler gone off to create another. That's our Quinn.
I'll open the fridge to grab ingredients for a meal, and he's in there, between my legs reaching for bottles of condiments and racing off to the living room with his treasure. Or he's in the pantry cupboards, pulling out cans of tomatoes, and granola bars wrapped in shiny foil. He also loves getting into the pots and pans. He'll pull out the mixing bowls and find a spatula and stir away. The mesh of the sieves attract his little feet. All of my strainers are dented and misshapen now. His grandmother recently passed on her old pots and pans to him, and Quinn will happily bang away on the lids. I don't know if he's got a future as a chef or a musician!
He's also become adept at removing the child safety locks on the cabinets. We're constantly chasing after him for the locks, and and whatever else he's managed to grab with his small paw.
Water is also a problem. He's learned to splash mightily in the tub. He's also aware that there's water in the toilets, and darned, if I don't catch him splashing in there as well. Everyone in the household has been warned to leave the lids down, but that doesn't seem to deter the Quinn-meister. 
Since he's mastered climbing the stairs, there is no place where Quinn won't appear in our home. I've often heard him enter my bathroom while I'm in the shower in the morning. Confirmation that it's Quinn appears in the form of a magazine or book being pushed into the tub. Or having the shower curtain pulled aside accompanied by a grinning little monkey peering up at me, unfazed by the water sprinkling onto him.
And while he has brought another level of mischief to our home, he has also added his own special Quinn-essence. There's nothing better than returning home after a long and stressful day, to a grinning face at the windows, and hearing him shout "Da-da" or "Ma-ma" while toddling over to grasp your legs. Or seeing him wake up, blinking sleepily, but smiling once he registers that you're there. Or hearing him query "Mama?" when he hears my voice in another room. Or seeing him point and blabber excitedly upon the return of his siblings from school. Watching him get excited over green beans or broccoli is hilarious! If only his siblings would follow suit.
Happy 13 months Quinnster!