So one time 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 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. Assuming my parents had thrown away the box for box tops, I called my mom to find out the cooking time and temperature for 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 the timer was about to go off, I entered a kitchen that smelled like cinnamon. 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 walks into the kitchen and catches my confused expression. 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.