Cooking for Family

If I had to cook for my family, I would make something small because I know they wouldn't eat it. I can't blame them, though, since I don't know how to cook. I can't even make a grilled cheese, and no that is not an exageration. If I was forced to cook, though, I'd make a chocolate cake because I love chocolate. When I was younger, I used to love to bake and my mom even bought me my own Easy-Bake Oven so that I could bake anytime I wanted. Cute, right? Well, somehow I outgrew that phase quite quickly and now I hardly set foot in the kitchen. Yet, I still remember how much fun I had baking with my mom. After she'd mix all the ingredients she would let me lick the spoon and bowl, which always caused me to have a stomach later. I'd tentatively watch as she would carefully place the dish in the hot oven and then dutifully stand guard on front of the clock until it was time to take it out. The kitchen would soon smell like whatever it was that we were baking; the sweet intoxicating smell of chocolate, the bittersweet aroma of strawberry, or the mellow scent of lemon. The air smelled good enough to eat! When the timer finally dinged, I'd practically salivate as my mom placed the dessert on the counter for it to cool. She always made sure I received the first taste and if my judgement was any less than perfect, she'd hesitate to serve it to anyone else. Truthfully, this happened often because I don't like sweet food very much and I would almost always say "I don't like it." Go figure why she kept on asking me. But, back to my chocolate cake. since I'm baking it for my family, I'd have to do it alone. I'm not sure if the batter would would turn out as sweet as when i baked with my mom, but I'd try my best. I would throw all the ingredients in the bowl and beat them together, but I wouldn't lick the spoon or the bowl. Why should I? I'd try my very hardest not to get burned when I put it in the oven and I'd go into the living room to wait until it's done. I won't be too worried if it burns. I mean, I'm not going to eat it. I probably won't notice when the house is warm with the sweet aroma emanating from the oven because my mind won't even be on that. When I hear the timer ring, I'd get up, take it out, and leave it on the counter. if anyone wants to eat it, they're more than welcome. As for me, I did what i had to do; I cooked and that's that.