About 10 years ago, my mother and one of her brothers (my uncle) decided that they wanted to become the “weird relatives” to my cousins and I. Most families have those weird relatives that talk about bizarre things and or always pinch your cheeks when you see them. They decided to go about doing this by making every holiday a very memorable one.

No holiday is ever the same and you can always expect the unexpected

There are about 20 of us….it’s my family, my mom’s 3 brothers and their families, and my grandmother. The youngest cousin is 15 and the oldest is 26. Were all old enough now to fully take everything in and see how crazy our relatives truly are.

By making the holidays memorable, we almost never seem to do the same thing. We have done progressive dinners, picnics on mountains, dinners at old historical forts…and no matter where we go or what we do, it always involves a game. Most everyone is overly competitive and we would all make excellent lawyers because we can argue until the sun sets.  One of our most favorite holidays is Easter because we have the annual Easter Olympics. Yes, you read correctly…the Easter Olympics (to be explained in a future post! Events, special guests, trophies and more!)

Over the last 5 Christmases, my uncle Lance has been making up his own game, all different variations of each other and a supposed improvement each time. The rules never make sense, the questions are all science related, and they always seem to involve 20 people throwing a ball at someone or something. It usually ends up in everyone aruging with him about the rules, the fact that our whole family cheats, and how pointless the game is.

This is the conversation at dinner last night:

Mom: Your uncle Lance approached me today and told me about his new game he wants to debut at Easter.

Me: No. No way. We are done with his games for awhile. His last game at Christmas was a disaster.

Mom: But you haven’t even heard what it is.

Me: No. No way. The last one was his worst yet, everyone is done with his games for awhile. You even said so yourself, need me to rewind the tape?

Mom: Want to hear what it’s called?

Me: Nope. I’m not playing.

Mom: He calls it “Chicks, Bunnies and the Hillbilly Stock Exchange.”

Me: No. No way.

If that’s what we end up playing at Easter, you will see me outside marching in a picket line in protest of playing the game.

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