Indigo's post, Sometimes I feel like I Live in a Frat House, reminded me of something similar that happened at our house once.
One evening while I put James to bed, Jake was in the kitchen dishing up some ice cream for me and sherbet for him. As I started downstairs, Jake was on his way up, holding his thumb which was bleeding. Somehow while taking the lid off the sherbet, he cut himself. He made a comment about how incredible it was that he somehow managed to hurt himself just by scooping ice cream and therefore adding to his history of injuring himself while cooking. So I finished for him and as I inspected the sherbet container, noticed a tiny piece of glass. What? I opened the freezer door, bent down, and looked on the shelf the sherbet belonged and noticed some brownish colored slush. What the hell? I stood up and looked on the shelf above seeing more of it, and could not think what it could possibly be until my eyes stopped at the top shelf. Son of a $*&!#!
The night before we had family over to celebrate my birthday. In the midst of the evening Jake decided that he was going to put beer in the freezer to chill it quickly. I really thought it was unneccessary as our fridge had a special chiller section where air from the freezer circulated within a particular compartment to do the same thing. Jake insisted and of course with company, and the party, forgot about them. Some time over night, those bottles exploded sending shards of glass and beer slush raining over our frozen foods. What a sticky mess to clean up!
Now-before Jake puts beer in the freezer, he's smart enough to set a timer. It sure beats me reminding him of the exploding beer episode and nagging him every so many minutes to make sure he hasn't forgotten. And it will help prevent any future "cooking" catastrophes.