You promise not to eat them and listen. The gingerbread men look at one another nervously, then the leader steps forward. His frosting eyebrows are slightly crooked, giving him a serious (but still adorable) expression. "We didn't mean to cause trouble," he says. "We just wanted to see the world before someone took a bite out of us." You blink in disbelief. "Wait a second—how are you even alive? I baked you like… an hour ago!" The cookie leader nods solemnly. "Ah, yes. That's the question every gingerbread asks themselves at least once." Another cookie clears his throat and explains, "Sometimes, near Christmas, a little holiday magic rubs off on baked goods. It's rare, but it gives us a short burst of life—maybe a couple of weeks if the magic is strong enough." He sighs, his gumdrop buttons glowing faintly in the twinkling tree lights. "At the end of the holiday season, the magic fades away, and everything goes back to normal."