Let me take you back to the day I became a self-proclaimed chef—an 8-year-old with a dream and absolutely no cooking skills.

It all started when I discovered Kraft Mac & Cheese for the first time. That bright blue box sat on the counter like a beacon of deliciousness, practically calling my name. The picture on the front made it look easy: noodles, cheese, happiness. How hard could it be?

I grabbed a pot, filled it halfway with water (which I thought was enough), and cranked the stove to what I now realize was WAY too high. In my young mind, higher heat meant faster food. I dumped the noodles in before the water even started boiling, because, well… patience wasn’t my strong suit.

Fast forward a few minutes—something smelled… off. Instead of the warm, cheesy aroma I had imagined, there was a suspicious burning scent filling the kitchen. I peeked into the pot, only to see the noodles sticking to the bottom like they had signed a lifelong lease. The water had completely disappeared, probably from pure evaporation, and the noodles had transformed into something that looked more like charred toothpicks than pasta.

At that exact moment, my mom walked in.

“What in the world is that smell?!” she said, sniffing the air like a detective on a case.

I froze, spatula in hand, sweat forming on my tiny forehead. “Uhh… dinner?”

She looked in the pot, then at me, then back at the pot. “BOY, WHAT IS THIS?!”

Before I could explain my culinary masterpiece, she turned off the stove, grabbed the pot, and held it up like evidence in a courtroom. The bottom was blackened, the noodles were beyond saving, and the kitchen smelled like a barbecue gone wrong.

After a solid five-minute lecture about “not burning the house down” and “how do you forget the water?!,” she finally sighed, shook her head, and made the mac & cheese the right way. When I finally tasted it—cheesy, creamy, and not resembling charcoal—I realized where I had gone wrong.

That day, I learned two things:

1. Cooking is harder than it looks.

2. Kraft Mac & Cheese tastes way better when my mom makes it.

And that, my friends, was the beginning (and almost the end) of my journey as a chef.