Here's the deal. I was in a hurry, as usual. I thawed out some cookie dough so that DD and I could take something to our playdate. Something NICE. Something TASTY. So, we roll out the dough, cut it into adorable spring shapes, the whole nine yards. I discover after 10 minutes at 350 degrees that they are not quite done. I think I will leave them in the warm, TURNED OFF oven to cook just a bit more. I go upstairs to help DD dress. I smell the wonderful cookie smell throughout the house. I do pause to think that the smell is awfully strong for a warm oven, then resume my "help." I go downstairs to the kitchen a few moments later, only to discover that I left the oven on. Of course. However, all is not lost. The cookies do not appear burnt and the test cookie that DH consumes is pronounced to be good. I also taste one, just to be sure. Off we go, cookies and all, to our playdate.
Approximately one hour later, I sneak over to the cookies and eat one. It is as hard as a rock. You could play a mean game of baseball with it. In spite of notifying all that the cookies are no good, a few kids, mine included, attempt to eat the cookies. One poor kid manages to gnaw off a few crumbs before giving up in futility.
After this alleged snack, we decide to feed the neighbor's donkeys and goats. DD offers our cookies to the donkeys. Attempted and refused. She offers one to the goat and he flat out refuses. REFUSES. Goats eat anything. They even eat tin cans, which apparently taste better than today's batch of cookies.
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