When Play is the Only Word

When a child walks into our playroom at Safe Steps in Kildare, the room feels large enough for them to move, but small enough for them to feel held. There is space to climb, hide, make noise, create, destroy and begin again. There is sand and clay, paint and music, figures and dress-up clothes, fighting toys, a soft beanbag, a tent and a tunnel. A whole world is waiting.

It is very natural for a parent to wonder: Is my child just playing? How can this help them heal?

The answer is that, in the playroom, children are often having deep and profound conversations. They simply are not using words in the way an adult might.

Play is a Child's Language

Children speak through movement, image, metaphor and story. They may show us something through the figures they choose, the picture they paint, the role they ask us to play or the same game they return to week after week. At times, the therapist's own body becomes part of that communication too: our breathing, our voice, our rhythm and the energy we bring to the room.

When experiences or feelings are too big, confusing or frightening to explain, they can become stuck in the body. Through play, a child can bring these experiences into the room in a form they can manage. They can come close, move away, test the edges and return when they are ready. The play may be physical, repetitive or full of symbolism. Gradually, what has felt rigid can begin to soften. What could not yet be said can be seen, felt and shared.

This is not a one-way process. Once the child's communication is received by an attuned therapist, the play becomes a conversation, co-created together, moment by moment.

The Therapist as a Tuning Fork

"when we remain warm, steady and connected, the child's body can begin to learn that big feelings can be survived, understood and shared"

Our role is not to rush or interrupt this process. We follow the child's pace and stay deeply present with what unfolds. Our eyes, voice, body and nervous system become a steady source of feedback - a little like a tuning fork, helping the child find their own steady rhythm until they can hold it more easily for themselves.

When a child stomps, pounds a drum, creates a fizzy potion or pours a storm of feeling into the room, they are often watching closely: Can you stay with me? Are my feelings too much? When we remain warm, steady and connected, the child's body can begin to learn that big feelings can be survived, understood and shared.

A Bridge Between Child and Parent

The therapeutic relationship does not sit apart from family life. Parents and caregivers are an important part of the journey. While protecting the child's confidential space, we can help make sense of what may be communicated through the play and support conversations that are difficult to begin at home.

Sometimes we act as an advocate for the child's emotional world. Sometimes we become a gentle bridge between child and parent, supporting both to find their way back to one another after moments of hurt, misunderstanding or disconnection. The hope is never to replace the relationship, but to strengthen it - helping the child's new sense of safety and understanding travel home with them.

One Safe Step at a Time

At the end of each session, there is time for the child's body to return to the here and now - perhaps with a soft blanket, a quiet moment or a snack - before they walk out the door and back into the arms of the person waiting for them.

Healing does not happen overnight. It grows through play, through relationship, and through the experience of being seen without being hurried. In the playroom, children can digest what has felt too big to hold alone and discover new ways of being with themselves and with the people they love.

One small moment, one shared breath, one safe step at a time.

The Story of the Sticky Slime

We often say that play is a child's language. But what does that actually mean? Imagine an adult coming to therapy after a painful life experience. They may sit with their therapist and say, "I feel so sad. I don't want to think about what happened because it makes me feel sick in my stomach. It is confusing and painful, and I wish I could get this feeling out of my body. "

The therapist does not rush to explain the feeling or make it disappear. They stay alongside the adult as the experience is spoken about, felt and gradually processed. Through talking (and feeling) the adult begins to make sense of what has happened and find a way through it.

A child may arrive in therapy carrying feelings that are just as deep, confusing or painful. The difference is that they may not yet have the words to tell us about them. Instead, they show us. The emotional work is no less meaningful or less profound. the language is simply different. For the adult, the conversation may unfold through words. For the child, it may unfold through a pot of sticky slime.

The following vignette is not the story of any one child. It is a gentle, fictionalized example drawn from the kinds of moments that can often unfold in play therapy.

For several weeks, the child has returned to the same old pot of slime.

The slime is sticky. It has hardened around the edges and clings stubbornly to the bottom of the container, but in the centre it is sticky and gooey.

The child lifts the lid, quickly closes it and pushes the pot away.

Child: “That’s disgusting.” The therapist stays close, without moving the pot or asking the child to do anything.

Therapist: “Yeah. It feels icky, eh?” As she speaks, the therapist uses her face and body to stay with the child in that feeling of disgust. She remains close by, gently mirroring the child’s body, which is now moving towards the container while still needing to look away.

Therapist: “Your body isn’t quite so sure about this. It might feel a little scary"

The child looks at the therapist for a moment and nods in agreement.

A few moments later, the child reaches for the pot again. This time, one finger touches the slime before quickly pulling away.

Child: “I’m not touching that.” The therapist can see how hard it is.

Therapist: “That’s okay. You don’t have to. You get to decide if you’re going to touch it or not.” The child looks around the room for a moment, then goes over to the yoga ball. They bounce on it for a few seconds, gently regulating their own body.

While sitting on the ball and bouncing, they begin to fall off. They put their legs out firmly and keep themselves upright.

Therapist: “Your body got a bit wobbly there for a second, but your legs knew exactly what to do!” The child smiles and soaks in their own strength. (the body reminding itself it can do this) Then, they take themselves back over to the pot, and give it another go. This time, the child takes a breath, and puts his hand in and pulls at the slime, over and over, until it stretches into a long, sticky strand. Some of it clings to their fingers.

Child: “Yuuukkk! I don’t like it. Get it off!”

Therapist: “You really don’t like how this feels, I know. It's hard. Remember, we have warm water right here. you can wash it off when you need to.” The child plunges their hands into the water. The therapist stays beside them, gently reflecting how yucky that was and how good it feels to let it all wash away.

Therapist: “Some of those bits are extra sticky aren't they?.” The child keeps rubbing their hands beneath the bubbles. They are not panicked, but determined. There is a quiet knowing that the slime will eventually come off.

The child becomes still for a moment. Looking into the water, they slowly lift their hands. Their eyes widen.

Child: “Oh! It’s off! I can see my hand!” The therapist smiles, sharing the wonder of the moment.

Therapist: “Yes! You got it off!” The child places their hands in the therapist’s. Together, they look closely at the now slime-free hands.

Child: “I have a red spot there. see? It’s sore.” The therapist looks carefully at the little red mark.

Therapist: “Oh Yes" the therapist says softly, "I see it, that looks really sore. Your poor finger. That must hurt.”

She pauses, staying with the child and the sadness that has entered the room.

Therapist: “yes, of course it hurts” ….. “I wonder if we need to put some cream on there eh? ” The child looks at the therapist, sadness resting quietly in their eyes.

Child: “Yeah.” A tender moment is shared as the therapist gently puts cream on the hurt that is now exposed. There is no need to rush past it or make it disappear. The hurt has been shown. It has been seen and felt, and the child is allowing the hurt to be cared for.

Through the play, a conversation has taken place without the child ever needing to find the words. Nothing has needed to be explained verbally. The child has told the story of the hurt and pain and yucky-ness through their hands, through the slime, through coming close, pulling away and trying again. They have discovered that the difficult thing can be touched and stayed with without having to face it alone.  In their own time, and in their own unique way. They have discovered that they have the strength it takes to move through hard things, even though sometimes the hard things can be a little sticky.

If you feel your child may benefit from play therapy please get in touch. our email is contact@safesteps.ie or by phone 0857115668