So one day 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. 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 provided the details, so I arranged around 20 on a tray, put them in the oven, set the timer, and exited the kitchen. When it was almost time to get my chicken nuggets, I walked into a cinnamon scented kitchen. I looked around the kitchen, trying to locate the source of the cinnamon smell, which led 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 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. That’s when the spark ignited and she realized exactly what had happened. Somehow in some form, I had accidentally baked snickerdoodles. And that’s why my parents can never take my cooking seriously.