The problem was immediately visible. In my haste to create a delicious snack the size of a human head, I failed to notice that our pizza pan was dappled with venting holes. Lots and lots of venting holes. Venting holes that caused dough to drop down onto the bottom of the oven, creating a hot minefield of miniature chocolate chip cookies, ladybug-sized cookies that were charred and crispy and full-on sizzling.
I quickly turned off the oven, shoved my arm into an oven mitt and scooped the teeny scorched cookies out onto the kitchen floor.
Problem solved. We would just have to wait for the oven to cool, and then I could wipe down the bottom before re-attempting our behemoth cookie.The kids stopped waving pillows and I sat down on the couch. Whew – that was a rush, right?
It smelled kind of good, though, like burnt cookies and berries.
The minute I turned my gaze to the kitchen, the smoke alarms started going off. Smoke was pouring from the stovetop, far more smoke than before. Whaaaat? I ran into the kitchen to see that in my haste to turn off the oven, I’d accidentally bumped the knob that turned on one of the back burners. The back burner that now had a bottle of berry-flavored Tums half-melted onto it because apparently I’d knocked them there when I’d been rushing to turn off the oven.