It's been somewhere in the neighborhood of 10-15 since that fateful night. The night my brother and I attempted to, and failed miserably at, construct a gingerbread house.
It was an horrific experience. One that, to this day, makes FHA assessors cringe. The walls never stood upright, the roof cracked and collapsed, the candies ran amok.
Simply put, it was not pretty.
So imagine my horror when my mother and father gave Katie and I a Gingerbread House Kit when they came over for Thanksgiving. The memories came flooding back. I tried to make them return it, but they refused. And, despite my better judgment, Katie and I decided to break it open earlier today while decorating for Christmas.
And now, our photographic retrospective...
Well, it's still standing as of 11:14 p.m. Sunday night. I'll keep you posted as time goes on whether it remains standing. But if my track record is any indication. It should be rubble by the end of the week, and not from us snacking on it.