So one day 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. 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 told me both of them, I laid out about 20 on a tray and stuck it in the oven, setting the timer before I walked out of 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 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. That’s when the spark ignited and she realized exactly what had happened. Somehow, I had inadvertently baked snickerdoodles. Hence, my parents never take my cooking seriously.