When I was a kid, my mom put a lot of effort into teaching and reminding us to cut up our food into small pieces to make cooking less likely.

I don’t know if this story is true, but she would always reference how a relative of hers had gotten steak stuck in his throat, couldn’t communicate that, and died in the middle of the dining room seating, surrounded by relatives I guess just thought he was being quiet.

(And that’s why you always leave a note)