Exploding eggs and dementia

I almost burned the house down last night. All I wanted were some hard-boiled eggs. I'm on a diet, don't ask.

It all started when I put six eggs in a pot of water and preceded to catch up with "Tori and Dean" and slog through "Flipping Out." Somewhere between the two, Liam stumbled in the room, eyes closed, reaching up for me. Two a.m. rolls around and my arm is numb from the quarter-pounder laying on me, so I carry us both to bed. Next thing I know, I hear David:

"Mommy, uh ..."

It was close to 5 a.m. and the smell of cooked eggs saturated the house. I think it still stinks. And those eggs were the expensive cage-free, organic variety ... damn!