Jello

"Have you ever had a giant jello fight with big buckets of jello that you get to throw at each other?"

That was my opening line at the 50 schools and churches I visited this year while recruiting for camp. And after I would say it, the kids would cheer and get excited, because, well, that's about the coolest sounding thing, um, ever! This week was "Ooey Gooey Week", so when the kids arrived to camp on Monday, they all wanted to know when the jello fight would be. I think next year I might just pelt them with jello the second they step off the bus.

Jello fight was a concept given to me by my old boss, and she is the greatest person alive and a great camp person, so I figured it was a solid idea. However, I have never actually hosted a jello fight, so I will admit, I wasn't completely, 100% sure what to do.

I had the cooks order 2 cases of jello (which makes 25 gallons). I found some plastic tubs, and on Monday afternoon, me and two of my staff made jello. It seemed simple. The huge walk in refrigerator in the kitchen was REALLY full of jello, but the cook was really nice about it and I figured we were set.

Wrong. Unfortunately we didn't realize we hadn't really stirred it enough. If seemed fine, but later, making the second batch, I would think the same thing, and then stick my hands in it, only to realize there was still a layer of undissolved jello at the bottom. But I didn't know it the first time around, so when the jello hadn't solidified by Tuesday morning, I was panicked. I had the cook order me another two cases, but they weren't supposed to arrive until Thursday afternoon. I was hoping the jello would be fine by then (nope).

All week long, every single kid asked me (sometimes two or three times) when the jello fight would be. They could not contain their excitement, and I was absolutely sick about it. I would smile and be excited too, but deep down I was terrified because I had 25 gallons of liquid, and I wasn't sure what to do. I have never felt so much pressure or stressed out about such a random thing. But I really didn't want to let down all of the kids and I was so afraid I might.

Thursday afternoon, 3pm, the second order of jello arrived. By this point, I'd put the other stuff in the freezer, because, well, if nothing else, we'd have a slushy fight. The cook and I made 25 more gallons of jello at warp speed, I said a prayer, and went back to work. Jello fight scheduled for 8pm.

The second batch worked perfectly and I was relieved. At 7:30, myself and two of my counselors loaded the truck with tubs of jello and drove it to the field. We made boundaries with cones and then spread out all of the buckets. We broke the frozen jello slush into softer slush, which actually worked just fine in the end.

The kids came down to the field in their bathing suits and old tee shirts. They took off their shoes and I had them sit in a circle as I went over the rules. The nurse and my dad(my photographers for the evening) were off limits. Anyone who got near them with jello was automatically out. The few kids on the side of the field not participating, also off limits. Safety, boundaries, etc. I told them not to touch the jello until I blew the whistle, but get into position. The energy on the field was powerful and I could feel the excitement as if it were a thick blanket. Once the kids were positioned, I counted to three, blew my whistle and watched as 85 kids and 15 counselors dove in and jello started flying. I don't think there are any words that can possibly do it justice, but I watched, frozen in the moment for a solid minute, my hands over my mouth in awe, before I jumped in and started throwing as well.

I work at camp because I believe in it and want to make a difference and blah blah blah... But I also work at camp because there is no where else I have ever been that allows you to be a kid again by putting you in situations that you completely lose yourself in the moment. All of my staff were kids again, laughing and screaming and covered in jello. It was pure joy, fun, innocent, happiness. It was amazing.

In the end, I blew the whistle, and we sent all of the kids to the lake to jump in and swim, fully clothed. The water was warm and everyone was sticky and hot. It was refreshing and wonderful to jump in and clean off. Later, I hosed down the field and washed out the buckets, and breathed a sigh of relief that everything worked. Such a great day!