So one time I was alone at home and it was nearing dinner time 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. Thinking that my parents must have thrown away the box for box tops, I called my mom to ask how long and at what temperature to cook 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!. 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. Then, it dawned on her, and she understood what had taken place. Somehow, I had inadvertently baked snickerdoodles. Hence, my parents never take my cooking seriously.