So one time I was by myself at home and it was about dinner time when I chose to cook something for myself. 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. Thinking that my parents must have thrown away the box for box tops, I called my mom to ask about the time and temperature for cooking chicken nuggets. She gave me the instructions, so I placed about 20 on a tray, put them in the oven, set the timer, and left the kitchen. As it was nearly time to take out my chicken nuggets, I walked into a kitchen filled with a cinnamon aroma. I explored the kitchen, trying to identify where the cinnamon scent was coming from, and it brought me to the oven. I turned on the oven light to see if my mom had maybe left some cookies in there, but to my surprise, the tray I had put chicken nuggets on now had cookies on it!. As I’m trying to process what just happened, I hear the front door open and my mom shout delightedly, “Ooooo what’s that smell?”. She entered the kitchen and noticed my bewildered expression. That’s when the spark ignited and she realized exactly what had happened. In some way or another, I had unintentionally baked snickerdoodles. And that’s why my parents can never take my cooking seriously.