As I've said before, my Mom wasn't much of a baker. I suppose, if she's had more of a sweet tooth, things might have been different.
She didn't mind sitting down in the late afternoon to coffee and a couple if chocolate chip cookies, she just didn't want to bake to do it.
Dad called the store bought cookies she brought home "cardboard cookies". If he complained enough, she'd buy that ready made cookie dough in a tube (the kind you slice) and 'bake' him a batch.
"There," she'd say, with a smirk on her face, "have a cookie."
Is it any wonder I took on the role of baker in the family.
I'm sure my Dad thought he was being subtle...yeah right. He once informed his wife he was putting in an insurance claim for his brown corduroy pants, since they'd been missing for weeks.
She would lovingly tell him to shut up, and the next day would get caught up on the laundry. I learned from her well, cooking and housework get put to side if an art project has my attention. At least I live alone and only have myself to worry about.