So once I was alone 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. Believing my parents had discarded 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, thinking my mom might have left some cookies inside, but I found that the tray with my chicken nuggets was actually filled with cookies!. While processing this, I heard the front door open and my mom cheerfully say, “Ooooo what’s that smell?”. She walks into the kitchen and catches my confused expression. At that moment, it clicked, 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.