The Power of Testimony

MARK BOUMAN || 19
Once, as we dug walls and pits in the sand to protect our armies,
Sheri announced that she was going to play with us. I stopped digging
and looked up at her. A doll dangled from one hand, and she was
scratching her hair with the other.
“You can’t play,” I informed her, returning to my important work.
“You’re a girl.”
“I’m telling Mom!”
Jerry and I looked at each other and shrugged, then resumed our battle
preparations. Once our fortifications were complete, combat consisted of
lobbing rocks, one at a time, toward the other person’s army. Any soldier
knocked over or buried by a rock was considered dead, and the battle continued
until one side was completely out of commission. We had learned
that it was best to spread our armies out across a wide swath of sand, thus
eliminating the chance that a single well-​ placed rock could end the battle.
Minutes later, Mom arrived. Hands on her hips, she declared, “You
boys need to include your sister when you play! She has no one else to
play with out here.”
Sheri stood defiantly by Mom’s side, glaring at us. Jerry and I both
sighed.
“Oh, all right,” I relented, motioning her over. “Come on.”
Mom left as Sheri skipped over to our battlefield. “What do I do?”
Jerry explained the game to Sheri, step by step, all the while redividing
the plastic soldiers into three piles. I ground my teeth in frustration—​
how could he be so patient? She stared at the little green men, turning
them over in her hands until Jerry reached the end of his explanation.
“So what’s this guy?”
“He has a grenade,” Jerry answered.
“What’s that?”
I couldn’t take it anymore. “Don’t you know anything?”
She threw a question back at me. “What does he do?”
“He throws it, duh,” I said, as if every preschool girl should know