So one day I was by myself at home and it was about dinner time when I planned to fix myself something to eat. I opened the freezer and dug around until I found what appeared to be chicken nuggets in an unopened plastic bag that for some reason, didn’t have any cooking instructions. Believing my parents had discarded the box for box tops, I called my mom to ask about the time and temperature for cooking chicken nuggets. She provided the details, so I arranged around 20 on a tray, put them in the oven, set the timer, and exited the kitchen. As it was nearly time to take out my chicken nuggets, I walked into a kitchen filled with a cinnamon aroma. I looked around the kitchen, trying to locate the source of the cinnamon smell, which led me to the oven. I decide to turn on the oven light to see if maybe my mom had stuck some cookies in the oven and forgot to bake them, but instead, I find that the tray my chicken nuggets were on has cookies on it instead!. While processing this, I heard the front door open and my mom cheerfully say, “Ooooo what’s that smell?”. She walked into the kitchen and saw my puzzled look. At that moment, it clicked, and she realized exactly what had happened. Somehow, I had inadvertently baked snickerdoodles. And that’s why my parents can never take my cooking seriously.