So one day I was home alone and it was nearing dinner time when I chose to cook something for myself. 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 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 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 I was trying to understand what had happened, I heard the front door open and my mom exclaim, “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 in some form, I had accidentally baked snickerdoodles. Hence, my parents never take my cooking seriously.