My youngest child has very odd taste in food. He thinks it’s a treat to go to the health food store and pick something out. He comes home with all sorts of oddities: star fruit, melons, a giant cabbage one time, and tonight … a coconut.

Somehow, even though my husband took him to the store, it became MY job to figure out how to open up the coconut. Read a wiki, got the coconut milk out, and then took it out to the driveway to smash it open with a hammer. Success! But then, all the meat of the coconut was still attached to the shell.

No problem, I thought. I’ll just jimmy it out with a knife. A sharp knife. Great idea, right?

My husband walked by my operation and I asked him what he thought the odds were that I was going to injure myself. He just chuckled, which I knew meant 100%. I agreed. It was a matter of time.

I think it was less than 30 seconds later that the knife slipped out of my hand and I stabbed myself in the other hand. In the palm. I cried out in pain. “What’s the matter?” my husband called from the other room. “Stabbed myself,” I answered.

At first I didn’t see blood, but then I SAW ¬†BLOOD AND LOTS OF IT. For a tiny little puncture, that fucker bled like crazy. But I totally deserved it. That was a dumbass move and I paid the price. Pro tip: don’t jimmy out coconut meat with a sharp knife. I don’t have another answer for you at present. I have to stop hemorrhaging blood so I can figure it out.

One day later …

Still about half of the coconut meat needed to come out, so thought I was going to be smart and just smash it into bits so I wouldn’t sustain any more injuries. I took a huge piece of coconut to the driveway and threw it to the ground with gusto.

The shell back bounced up toward me so I went to stop it from hitting my face and/or vital organs with my OTHER hand. The shell was all jaggedy so when I put my hand out to stop it, I got rewarded with more lacerations.

Conclusion: coconuts are dangerous, and should be outlawed.