"Rex! Get the cookie!" you call. Rex perks up and launches off the rug, tail wagging like a helicopter blade. The gingerbread man screams, "Retreat! The beast is loose!" Rex gently sniffs the cookie—then licks him! The frosting smears, and the cookie's candy eyes go googly. "Mercy! MERCY!" You laugh at first… but then something strange happens. The cookies stop moving. Their frosting stops wiggling. The sparkle in their candy eyes fades away. Rex tilts his head, confused, as the gingerbread people become perfectly still—just cookies again. Your smile fades. "Oh no… I think I scared them too much." You pick the gingerbread men up, they are all still and lifeless. You place them on the plate for Santa. You can't help but feel bad. On Christmas morning—you hurry downstairs. The cookies are still there on the counter, motionless. But beside them is a small note written in shimmering red ink: Dear Baker, Magic is delicate—especially Christmas magic. Next time, show kindness before command. A little warmth goes further than fear. — Santa Claus You sigh and look at the cookies sadly. "I should have treated them kindly," you whisper. Rex barks softly, as if agreeing. The End.