So one day I was alone at home and it was nearing 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. Believing my parents had discarded the box for box tops, I called my mom to find out the cooking time and temperature for 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 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 I was trying to understand what had happened, I heard the front door open and my mom exclaim, “Ooooo what’s that smell?”. She entered the kitchen and noticed my bewildered expression. At that moment, it clicked, and she realized exactly what had happened. Somehow, I had inadvertently baked snickerdoodles. Hence, my parents never take my cooking seriously.