You glance at the clock. It's way past bedtime, and your brain feels frosted-over with all the cookie chaos. In fact, you can't help but wonder if you are imagining all of this. After all, talking cookies who leap around the room…this can't be real. "I think it's time for bed," you say, yawning. The gingerbread men look disappointed. "But what about the North Pole?" asks one. You smile kindly. "You'll have to make that trip without me tonight." Rex barks once, curling up beside your slippers. You head upstairs, brushing cookie crumbs from your sleeve. That night, you dream of flying gingerbread sleighs, singing snowflakes, and Santa laughing so hard that milk shoots out his nose. When you wake up in the morning, you wonder if it was all a dream… until you spot tiny sugar footprints on your windowsill, leading out into the fresh snow. You hope they reach the North Pole.