Mamma Mia!

Over the holidays my mother tried to kill me. She may try to kill me again when she reads this post, but I will tell you about the first murder attempt.

My mother makes the most delicious peanut butter fudge, which she only makes around Christmastime. One evening we were both sitting on the couch watching TV. I got up, got myself a piece of fudge and flopped back on the couch. On my second bite of fudge I felt something...hard. You know, that grating sound on your teeth that sends chills down your spine? That is what the crunch on this hard bit induced. I know the fudge is usually smooth as peanut butter so I was intrigued. My mind first went to "it's just a piece of eggshell!". A millisecond letter I was let down when I remembered that there are no eggs in the fudge. Then this conversation happened as I began to extract the item:

Me: "There's something hard in my fudge, I can't tell..."

Mom: "Is it a knife tip?"

Sure enough, right then I pulled a tiny piece of metal out of my mouth.

Me: "Yes it is?! What the hell?!!"

Mom: "I was afraid of that. The knife tip broke off when I was chopping chocolate and I couldn't find it."

"Im sorry. You knew this was in the fudge and you didn't think to tell me?"

"I was hoping I would get that piece."

"That's taking a bit of a chance don't you think? You could have killed me if I swallowed it!"

"It would have just come out the other end..."

"Mother, it's not a marble, it is a sharp piece of steel! With a point! Made precisely for cutting!"

"Well you didn't swallow it."

"Really, very much not the point. I could have had serious internal bleeding. How would you feel then?!"

"I had hoped it went on the floor..."

"Oh, okay where I walk BAREFOOT!?"

"Hmm"

"Okay, from now on I would appreciate it if you front load all information on potentially deadly food, not explain after the fact."

And then I added two grad schools on the East Coast.