I'm blowin' up, y'all!

So, I was on the Yahoo! portal page today, and it wasn't a story about my arraignment. Looks like someone owes me a *double* cheeseburger and an apology. In that order, please and thank you very much, Fr. Dornan.
It was, as one might expect if one is reading about it here, for making lunches like the one at right for Primo. You've got your PB&J sandwich adorned with carrot and wasabi peas (which, as I knew they would be, were picked off and eaten separately,) your BabyBel round cut to look like a peppermint candy, your broccoli tree with radish garland held to a club cracker by Garlic Herb Rondele cheese spread, your blueberry and maraschino cherry "festive baubles" and your baby corn snowflakes.
This one was from before winter break, so, like 6 weeks ago, which makes me wonder why they won't refill my prescription yet. Don't they know I'm "SuperDad?" that guy on internet TV said so himself!
Well, today SuperDad was trying to put Secundo down for a nap when he heard a loud bang from downstairs. It was a snow day, so Primo was, I knew, watching television and had not yet exceeded the "one-unidentifiable-loud-bang-or-crash-from-another-part-of-the-house-per-day" rule. Guideline, really, he gets enough "rules" at school. It had obviously not been a gunshot - Miss Lucy was tucked safely under my pillow and it had too full a report to be Primo's derringer, it's just a .22. But then the faint smell of smoke brought me downstairs.
"There's stuff all over the kitchen," was my greeting. I regarded Primo for a second and then ventured in, not sure what to expect.
I hadn't a clue what would be burning until I remembered an instant before it was obvious: there had been an eggsplosion. I'm sorry, it still seems precious to call it that, but like Brangelina or Chad Ochocinco, that's just the way it is now. That is what you call an explosion involving an egg. I don't want to call it that, but we don't always get want we want. (Obey the hyperlink and PLAY VIDEO.)
Anyway, I had been boiling some eggs, had actually thought to myself "If I'm warming up the eggs along with the water, I wonder when they'd be soft-boiled?" and then promptly forgotten all about them.
There are a lot of horrible stories from parents that start with "I was only gone for a minute," or "I didn't know sugargliders moved that fast." But pretty much anything can happen in 25-30 minutes. You can get braces, lose your date to the dance, get introduced to a bunch of other possible dates and then end up going with the original guy who got braces, too. You can get hired and fired from a chocolate factory. You can write a story about drugs at your school, refuse to divulge your sources and get a visit from Nancy Reagan. Basically, as long as it doesn't have to happen in Hawaii, it can happen in 25-30 minutes. I just didn't really appreciate that all of the water could evaporate from a pot and then eggs left behind could literally eggsplode.
But eggsplode they can. There are still bits clinging to the ceiling.
Lucky I can fly, I guess.