So once I was alone at home and it was about dinner time when I chose to cook something for myself. 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. Thinking that my parents must have 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 explored the kitchen, trying to identify where the cinnamon scent was coming from, and it brought me to the oven. I turned on the oven light to see if my mom had maybe left some cookies in there, but to my surprise, the tray I had put chicken nuggets on now had cookies on it!. While processing this, I heard the front door open and my mom cheerfully say, “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. And that is why my parents can never take my cooking seriously.