So one time I was home alone and it was nearing dinner time when I decided to make 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 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 the timer was about to go off, I entered a kitchen that smelled like cinnamon. I searched all over that kitchen, trying to find the cinnamon scent, leading me to the oven. I turned on the oven light, thinking my mom might have left some cookies inside, but I found that the tray with my chicken nuggets was actually filled with cookies!. 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 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’s why my parents can never take my cooking seriously.