I can’t say I blame them. My Dad’s two brothers—Dave and John—have been the lives of the party for as long as I can remember. They’ve invented more games than Milton Bradley and their creativity could even make Walt Disney feel inadequate. One of my earliest memories involves a game that can only be described as dodge ball with stuffed animals. Uncle Dave and Uncle John (joined by Dan, the youngest brother of the family) would instruct my sister and I to gather all of our plush toys and collect them in a pile on the floor. As they launched the stuffed treasures as ammunition, my sister and I would race between the open doorway, trying to dodge and weave between alternating Carebears and My Little Ponies hurled by the trifecta of uncles. A hit to the leg would require us to hop on the remaining one for round two. If both legs were hit, we would be forced to crawl between the safety zones. And the ultimate hit, and a direct shot to the head, would start the game over. Not your average game of tag, but a Dodson Family Classic that has transferred down to successive generations.