Rex dashes after the cookies, barking in pure joy. The gingerbread men zigzag across the rug, flipping over candy canes and dodging pine needles. One cookie yells, "Scatter, scatter, like powdered sugar in the wind!" Rex sniffs them out and corners two behind a wrapped present. They look terrified but brave, clutching each other's frosting hands. You feel a pang of guilt. Poor little guys—they might be mischievous, but they're still your creations. "Rex, sit!" you say gently. Rex pauses, tail wagging, and sits down obediently. The cookies peek out, trembling slightly. "You're… not going to eat us?" one asks. You shake your head. "No. I'm sorry I scared you." They exchange glances. Then the cookie leader steps forward and clears his tiny crumb-filled throat. "Well," he says, "in that case… would you help us get to the North Pole?" You blink. Did a cookie just ask you for travel assistance?