So once I was by myself at home and it was about dinner time 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. Assuming my parents had thrown away 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. As it was nearly time to take out my chicken nuggets, I walked into a kitchen filled with a cinnamon aroma. I looked around the kitchen, trying to locate the source of the cinnamon smell, which led 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 entered the kitchen and noticed my bewildered expression. That’s when the spark ignited and she realized exactly what had happened. In some way or another, I had unintentionally baked snickerdoodles. And that’s why my parents can never take my cooking seriously.