Every birthday that my sister and I celebrated at the house I grew up in involved some kind of outdoor tournament. My sister’s usually necessitated water since her birthday was in the summer, while everyone was bundled up in jackets for my autumn celebrations. My mom was in charge of almost everything, the invitations, the guest list, the food, the theme, and the date. My dad’s sole responsibility was the yard games.

The earliest celebration I remember was my sister’s third birthday. The theme was Disney Princesses, and we ate fruit salad and heart-shaped PB&Js before delving into a large purple cake. Tiaras were distributed, even to the boys, and most of the guests were family friends and their kids since my sister had not yet started preschool. My dad called the kids to the other side of the yard, where he had laid out a line of meandering cones that stopped just before the inflatable pool. He showed us how we were to gallop through the cones on the stick horse before throwing a ball into the pool. We would then have a running race to the other side of the yard, and participate in a take on “pin the tail on the donkey” in which we were to stick a bow on an enlarged picture of Jordan after being blindfolded.

One of the most elaborate parties I’ve ever had was a “wacky” themed 7th birthday in which my guests were required to show up in mismatched, crazy outfits. My mom managed to find blue French fries, and crafted a cake to look like a bowl of spaghetti. My dad really went above and beyond with the yard games that year. The entire tournament was set up relay teams-style. We had to roll a hard-boiled egg across the length of the yard with our noses to the next member of our team, skip backwards down and back, and carry spoonfuls of popcorn from one bowl to one on the other side of the yard as quickly as possible with minimal spills. We competed in a classic three-legged race for the tiebreaker. The other team pulled a miraculous victory, and I was devastated. I made up for it by cheating in the individual running race, taking off before my dad got to the word “go.”

No matter the year, theme, or season, every birthday celebration at that house was highlighted with ridiculous games in the expansive yard. That’s what I’ll always remember most vividly about that old house– the yard games.