There's no way to know for sure how the plastic cutting board made its way into our oven where it melted into a toxic-fumed pile of goo. I have my suspicions, though. If they are correct, that will mean two "Ramona Quimby" moments in one week. The other being when I went to check on why he was taking so long in the bathroom and discovered he had squeezed a whole tube of toothpaste into the sink.
Pray for me, people.