Dodgeball is better than chocolate.

It&8217;s better than Christmas. Better than a birthday party. Better than a trip to the zoo.

And it can make or break an entire year in the life of a young child.

We tried to blame last Wednesday night on a full moon, but that happened three days earlier. We&8217;ve theorized about energy drinks and caffeine. And the most likely explanation seems to point to left over Halloween candy.

Regardless, something got into the children at my church last week, all of them.

The problems started as soon as they walked in the door. They were out of control through Bible study. Way too loud in the hallways. And, at times, literally bouncing off the walls.

But things got really interesting during game time.

They got a serious warning, which led to a threat, which led to the saddest bunch of kids I&8217;ve ever seen.

The game director could tell from the minute we came through the door that playing Mr. Nice Guy wouldn&8217;t work that night. So he told them from the start that any rule breakers would sit against the wall (next to me) for the entire game time.

First I had three friends. Then they multiplied like rabbits. I lost track of the rule violations, though, in general, there was running out of turn, yelling and jumping.

Before we knew it, a group of about 20 kindergarten through second-graders playing fun games had dwindled to only three. The rest sat on the wall with me.

Then our wall became the wailing wall. Each and every child sitting there was innocent of the charges in their minds, and they weren&8217;t afraid to voice their opinion on the matter.

Then the world came crashing in around the children.

Only a few games exist that only three children can play. One of them happens to be dodgeball.

The announcement rivaled news that Santa Claus was dead.

The ones left sitting on the sidelines cried. Sobbed. Not one of them, but nearly all.

The tough boys let the tears flow. The dainty girls couldn&8217;t hold back the chest heaves.

It was truly a sight to see.

While the three remaining children played for two rounds of the beloved (and rarely played) dodge ball, the rule breakers could do nothing but sit and watch.

Take off your adult hat for a minute, put yourself in their shoes.

Do you remember what it felt like when something &8220;wasn&8217;t fair&8221; as a child?

It&8217;s a gut wrenching, sob-inducing, deep despair that starts in the pit of your stomach and just can&8217;t be stopped.

You can&8217;t reason with it. And you can&8217;t seem to win. All you can do is cry and wail, &8220;it&8217;s not fair.&8221;

Because that feeling comes so often in childhood, teen years and young adulthood, we harden to it. Sure, adults still feel it, but most of us can say in return &8220;life&8217;s not fair&8221; and move on.

Coping with fairness is the main element in growing up.

Now, we adults aren&8217;t all mean. The teachers sat down with our group Wednesday night and talked through what happened. We explained why they had to sit out dodge ball and attempted to teach the appropriate lesson.

It&8217;s a lesson they won&8217;t understand for years to come.

&8220;This is the worst year of my entire life,&8221; one of the second-grade girls whined as we left the game room. All because of dodgeball.

She&8217;s got a point though. It is fun, even for adults.

Yes, I played. Hey, somebody had to even the teams. Two against one is hardly fair.

Julie Finley

is the managing editor of The Natchez Democrat. She can be reached at 601-445-3551 or

julie.finley@natchezdemocrat.com

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