Catholic Kids Play Catholic Games

I grew up closest to my little sister, Hannah, who's a little over two and a half years younger than me. We could spend hours playing house, making believe that we were old enough to wear high heels and pay taxes and go to high school and stuff. I somehow managed to always be what seemed to be the most important role of all: the mom. I was in charge of sending our baby dolls off to school and making sure they'd done their homework, changing their diapers and wiping their little plastic noses, and disciplining them when they were naughty. I was a pretty harsh person when it came to punishing my little angels. A crime such as refusing to eat their green building blocks (aka veggies) could easily get them a dip in the pool of boiling lava. Yes, I was a tough cookie. 

Much to my annoyance, Hannah always wanted to be the son named Michael. I would beg her, on my knees, to be the daughter just this once. Hannah was always a tomboy. If there was anything that was specifically "for boys," then she wanted it. Her favorite color was blue because it was "a boy color." We used to pass an IHOP when my mom would drive me to preschool. Hannah decided that it would be her school because it was blue. (Yes, my little sister went to school at the International House of Pancakes. Don't judge.) In her mind, Hannah was a boy named Michael. Sometimes, I would bribe her with a piece of gum to PULEEASE be a girl.  Every once in a while she would give in to my pleading, and I would be the proud mother of a girl name Michelle. 

When we weren't playing house, Hannah and I would find some other way to exercise our extremely active imaginations. My family is one of those hardcore Catholic families who can't help but be Catholic in everything we do. So as Catholic kids, naturally my siblings and I played Catholic games. We loved to play Mass with our Barbie dolls. For some reason, we never owned any Ken dolls growing up. We had to make do and chop off one of our Barbie doll's hair with scissors and draw a beard on her face to make her look more manly so that she could play the male parts in our games. Her name was Fr. Bob. "He" was the priest that would say Mass for all of our other dolls. 
Once, our family went to go play laser tag up in Phoenix to celebrate my little brother Michael learning how to read. If you've ever doubted that it would be possible to suck at playing laser tag, my family will just prove to you that it is most certainly possible. We might have actually been alright if we hadn't found it more fun to sacrifice ourselves for Jesus. That's right. We went Miguel Pro. "VIVA CRISTO REY!!!"