So one time I was by myself at home and it was nearing 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 ask how long and at what temperature to cook 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. When it was almost time to get my chicken nuggets, I walked into a cinnamon scented kitchen. 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, 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. At that moment, it clicked, and she realized exactly what had happened. In some way or another, I had unintentionally baked snickerdoodles. Hence, my parents never take my cooking seriously.