Fear and loathing in the kitchen

The vacuum no longer holds the title of most feared object in the house. That dubious honor now goes to the kitchen exhaust fan. Our house was built in the 1950s, and we've got one of those old-school fans built right into the south wall above the window. We don't use it very often, but for some reason young Samson is obsessed with it.

If I'm holding him, he points at it and makes a serious of "k" and "t" sounds. The first time he did that, I figured I'd show him what the fan does. Big mistake. He literally trembled with fear and tried to climb behind me for cover. Remember that scene in the Blair Witch Project where Heather tells the camera how scared she is? It was like that. But worse and more compelling [in the movie, I was rooting for the witch; I'm definitely rooting for Samson against the fan.]

Unfortunately, what terrifies him also seems to fascinate him, so now every time we're in the kitchen he points at it, tries to reach for it, and then recoils in fear at the silent, inert fan.

Of course, in the long run this could save us lots of money on trips to Six Flags. Roller coasters, schmoller coasters. We've got everything we need in our kitchen.

We could set up a rope line and one of those "you must be this tall" signs by the kitchen entrance, sell crappy souvenir t-shirts ["I survived the Fan and now I'm Exhausted!], hire a sullen teenager to take tickets and look alternately bored and annoyed, and let Sam scare himself over and over and over.