When I was five or six or so my mom made cookies for me to bring to class for my half birthday. It wouldn't have occurred to me to measure it otherwise. Now, they weren't the concentrated bacon fat, Italian espresso, Peruvian chocolate, organic tarragon cookies that you casually whip up. No, they were cookies a normal person might make. Toll House, most likely.
Anyway, I vividly remember bursting into my classroom proudly carrying a tray of cookies. I was surely wearing my white cleats because those were my favorite shoes and there was no telling me no on that sort of deal back then. People wondered what the hell was going on because everyone knew my birthday was not close. It literally could not be farther away as it turns out. But I got to make a bit of a scene and that's pretty much all I ever wanted so it all worked out.
