A tragedy was narrowly averted today in the Hillbilly Mansion kitchen. Mrs. Hillbilly Mom, on the mend from her left thyroid lobectomy, had just prepared a steaming glass bowl of Quaker Instant Apples & Cinnamon Oatmeal. She had poured in the boiling water, set her bowl on a lavender hand towel so as not to burn her tender hands, and was moving from the kitchen to the living room to sit on the edge of the couch, apply her massaging neck travel pillow, and await the cooling of her tasty breakfast.
Alas, the #1 son, all a-twitter about a new app he is making for android phones, had migrated to the kitchen to try to enlighten Mrs. HM on all things technical. After a short argument about the pronunciation of 'Einstein', a quarrel which included the term 'William Einstein', because neither party could remember the first name of Albert, the #1 son had plopped himself at the cutting block, where he is wont to squat on top of a stool for meals. However, in his pique of pronouncing Einstein as IneStine, he had stood instead of squatted. Mrs. HM, who may or may not have been under the influence of oxycodone, assumed that #1 had assumed his regular position, and breezed past him with her unstable load of steaming oatmeal.
The smallest three toes of Mrs. Hillbilly Mom were impeded by the heel of the #1 son, and a stumbling balancing act to rival a Chinese Acrobat/Ringling Barnum & Bailey sideshow ensued. Thank the Gummi Mary, Mrs. HM was able to regain her balance without tossing the flaming oatmeal onto her cut-throat incision.
Somewhere in her youth or childhood, Mrs. HM must have done something acceptable.