Lowen Gets Low

Lowen is the calmest person in the Playroom. That’s what everyone says, anyway. Lowen knows the truth: he isn’t always calm inside. He’s just learned how to look calm on the outside, slowly, from the bottom up.

It started with a tower.

Rosa, who was four, had spent ages building a wobbly tower out of every single block in the basket. It was taller than her. Then a bigger kid ran past, and the tower crashed down.

Rosa screamed. It was the kind of scream that makes everyone in a room turn round. Then she threw a block, lay on the floor and kicked.

Lowen’s heart jumped. His first thought was to fix it, fast. “Don’t worry, we’ll build it again! Look, I’ll help! Shall we do the troll? Do you want the cars?”

He did all of that. It made things worse. Rosa screamed louder and kicked the blocks away.

Sola came over. She didn’t say anything at first. She got down on the floor, sitting low, a little way from Rosa, and breathed slowly. Then she said, very quietly, “That was so sad. Your tower fell down.”

Rosa’s crying changed. It was still loud, but it was a different kind of loud. Less angry, more sad.

Sola didn’t offer a game. She didn’t try to fix the tower. She stayed there, low and slow and close, until Rosa’s breathing got quieter. Then Rosa crawled over and leaned against Sola’s arm.

After a long time, Rosa sniffed and said, “Can we build it again?”

“If you want to,” said Sola.

They did. It was even taller.

Afterwards, Lowen asked Sola why the games hadn’t worked. “Big feelings first,” she said. “When a little kid is really upset, their brain can’t do games yet. They need to feel safe and calm again. Then they can play.”

“But how do you stay calm when they’re screaming?”

“I start with my body,” said Sola. “Sit down low. Slow my breathing. Make my voice quiet. Even if I don’t feel calm, my body can show them what calm looks like. And bit by bit, the feeling inside catches up.”

Lowen practised it. The next time a little kid got upset, it was a boy called Kit who couldn’t get his coat zip done up, Lowen felt the panic start. He didn’t rush. He sat down low beside Kit, made his breathing slow, and said quietly, “That zip is being really annoying.”

Kit kept crying, but after a minute he leaned toward Lowen. Lowen waited. When Kit was ready, they did the zip together.

Now Lowen teaches the new Sidekicks his three words: low, slow, close.

Low means get down to their height, so you’re not looming over them. Slow means slow breathing and a quiet voice. Close means stay nearby, even if they don’t want a hug.

And no games until the storm has passed. Then, and only then, you can try Following or Waiting or Leif’s one small idea.

If a little kid is hurt, or the crying doesn’t stop, or something feels wrong, that’s different. That’s when you fetch a grown-up straight away, the way Hallam does.

But for a fallen tower or a stuck zip, Lowen knows what to do.

Get low. Go slow. Stay close. Games later.