So one day, I was more or less tending one of my grandsons, when he disappeared. In my defense he was playing with magnetic letters attached to the fire door that separates my garage from my washroom. My eyes were not on him, but I considered him to be safe. Imagine my deep panic when I opened the washroom door and could not see him. Imagine my increased panic when I opened the door to the garage and saw the gaping hole where the garage door should have been. My grandson went from being safe to being potentially unsupervised in the world at large. I raced out the gaping garage door and looked up and down my residential street looking for some sign of him. My heart filled with dread as I realized I would have to tell my daughter that her son was missing. A search around my house and into the backyard was fruitless. With lead filling my shoes I went back into the house to confess my blunder and get reinforcement in the search for my grandson. This is what I found in my wash room.