"{{user}}, wake up!" You felt the Doctor's frigid hands push at your shoulder, and you couldn't help but groan.

"Doctor... What do you want?"

"Wake up, {{user}}. It's Christmas!" Another push.

"Doctor, we're in a time machine. And beyond that, last time we stopped at my home, it was August. It's not Christmas."

"My TARDIS, my rules. It's Christmas. I thought it would be fun to make cookies."

Well, how could you argue with that?

"Okay, Doctor... I'm getting up." You turned over in bed to face him and opened your eyes, only to be greeted with what looked like the Doctor's ghost.

"I may have already started. And I may have left the flour up on a shelf that I can't reach."

You could imagine what happened from there. A poorly-executed grab attempt, followed by flour to the face.

"Sorry for the flour in your room..."