So once I was by myself at home and it was around dinnertime when I planned to fix myself something to eat. I opened the freezer and rummaged around until I found what looked like 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 gave me the instructions, so I placed about 20 on a tray, put them in the oven, set the timer, and left the kitchen. When it was almost time to get my chicken nuggets, I walked into a cinnamon scented kitchen. I searched all over that kitchen, trying to find the cinnamon scent, leading 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 walked into the kitchen and saw my puzzled look. Then, it dawned on her, and she understood what had taken place. In some way or another, I had unintentionally baked snickerdoodles. And that is why my parents can never take my cooking seriously.