These gingerbread man Christmas pajamaralls remind me of my childhood. When I was a kid, I'd help my mom make gingerbread men and decorate them for our Christmas party. Since she wanted to put the prettiest cookies out on the plate, I was only allowed to have the broken ones. So, every time she looked away, I'd rough up my next victim and make up stories to explain their injuries. "He owed me money and coincidentally ended up falling down a flight of stairs." "He fell asleep on the job and got his legs pulled into the machine, the lazy bastard."
That's normal and not a red flag, right?