— Horns, horns, horns, boom! boom!
Florent and Violaine stand face to face, heads down, bumping together at each "boom." They start again, laughing with pure joy.
Violaine switches games: "I'm holding you by the beard—whoever laughs first loses." They grip each other's chins, eyes locked. Florent can barely hold back his laughter; he's just waiting for his chance to strike his sister! Their mother steps in. She settles Florent on her knee:
— Do you love me?
— Yes!
— Stay, stay in my boat!
— No!
— Down, down into the water!
And Florent tumbles to the floor, laughing blissfully. He understands the game perfectly and loves it—along with every version of "on horseback," where the bouncing gets faster and faster until he ends up on the ground.
Just like all the "boat on the water" games, with all the rocking and the inevitable tumble at the end.
At twelve years old, Florent is crazy for these games that usually belong to little children. He has Down syndrome and is naturally quite passive; he doesn't know how to play alone.
But he's always ready to connect through songs, little stories, chants, hand games, and face games that always end with a "tickle-tickle"—the pinky dancing on the palm or gentle touches to the chin after traveling across every part of the face: "Pretty eyes, their brothers too, pretty ears, their sisters true, and the big bell that goes ding-dong, ding-dong!"
Everything becomes a song, depending on the time of day. If it's raining: "Rain, rain, it's party time for the frog…" On a walk: "Open the doors, here he comes, here he comes…" At mealtime: "Mouth for you, mouth for me, yum!" At bedtime: "Sleep, sleep, little one!"
It's impossible to count all the tiny stories and chants and nursery rhymes. But he's most captivated by finger games. Through these he learns to sing, to know he belongs to something whole, to recognize family names, to perform characters: "The thumb says: I'm hungry. The index says: there's no bread. The middle finger says: what will we do? The ring finger says: we'll steal! The pinky says: from the little drawer, there's a little scrap, give it to me because I'm the littlest!"
— Knock, knock, thumb, are you there? (thumb hidden in a fist, the other fist taps it)
— Shhh! I'm sleeping. (finger to lips)
— Look, I'm coming out! (thumb emerges)
It helps to repeat the same nursery rhymes often—very often. With his sister and with friends, Florent loves "One, two, three, right hand! One, two, three, left hand!…"
Beyond connection with others, he loves clapping the other person's hands, following the game's rules: opposite hands first, then together, then right against left, and so on.
Gradually, an atmosphere of complicity builds around Florent: one game leads to another. From the hidden thumb to a hidden object, then hide-and-seek, and finally someone is chosen as a wolf who goes to hide but talks with us:
— Wolf, are you there?
— Yes!
— What are you doing?
— Putting on my underwear!
— And now, what are you doing?
— (the questions keep coming)
— And now?
— And...I'm coming out!
Fear and suspense. The wolf bursts from the den, running and shouting. Then his mother appears with an enormous cardboard box, pushing it toward Florent. "Look, a present for you!" Florent, very interested, opens the box and finds his sister inside, playing a sleeping doll who slowly wakes up and starts playing "Peekaboo…surprise!" Then the box is flipped over Florent's head, and he has to walk without seeing. Now the box sits on his head—it's hard for Florent to walk without dropping it! This becomes a reason for everyone to try walking with something balanced on their head. A cloth bag filled with rice or dried beans works best.
Ready to connect through songs, little stories, hand games
Ready to connect through songs, little stories, hand gamesPlaying with the Body
There's room for every kind of game here:
- balance games: walking on spaced pieces of paper or cardboard, following a straight line on the floor…
- obstacle courses: ducking under the table, climbing onto a chair, going around the desk, out one door and back in another, jumping over a stool, crawling through a tunnel (if the child agrees. For Florent, a tunnel in a box or big plastic tube is bothersome; he needs a hand, encouragement…)
- musical chairs, with music: if there are enough people.
- body image games: taking measurements, comparing sizes, making yourself tiny, then tall, tall…
- silhouette games: lying on cardboard while someone traces around your body with a marker, then cutting out the shape; mirror games; smiling at each other, making faces, touching…
- blowing games: light paper, soap bubbles, feathers, etc.
- musical instruments, ping-pong ball in a cup
- games of smell, taste, touch
- tic-tac-toe games: buttons, beads, pasta, dried beans…
- precision games: knocking down pins with a ball, aiming into a cardboard box, into a bucket placed far away, etc.
- hopscotch, wheelbarrow games (held by the legs, walking on hands, etc.)
- dress-up games (hats, oversized shoes, old-fashioned women's clothes for boys and vice versa, etc.)
Body games are fundamental… it's the magic of reliving that complicity that forms through play
Body games are fundamental… it's the magic of reliving that complicity that forms through play
Some of these games can happen outside. But when he's outdoors, Florent tends even more naturally to sit and watch. Still, we use his interests to get him moving a little.
— Tennis: when he throws well or catches with the racket, we applaud.
— Ping-pong: same thing.
— Ball: he can often catch it, but he still doesn't throw it well; it just goes wherever.
Then there are things Florent doesn't like. We introduce these in small doses to help him grow: a bicycle, roller skates, a slide, climbing trees—even low ones.
But the swing? He's always happy to sit on it and wait to be pushed.
Playing Means Becoming Active
All of this shows that you can interest a very passive boy who would never play on his own. Naturally, he reaches for the remote to watch TV, or a cassette to listen to music. He looks at books, magazines, comics a lot. So we can't say he does nothing.
But normally, a child plays spontaneously. He plays with everything and everywhere. That's why it's so disorienting for a mother to discover that her child doesn't play alone. And when you understand how important play is for a child's development, that mother quickly feels guilty about a child so passive. Because while normal children grow on their own, his growth requires help. It takes more time, more energy, more imagination, more strength, more availability—it's not easy every day.
This is why bringing together siblings, cousins, and friends (people with a bit of distance from them) can provide the necessary momentum.
Another crucial point: it's not the amount of time you spend each day that matters, but the quality of the connection. Playing with Florent for maybe just ten minutes means he becomes active for those ten minutes.
It's about sparking his desire. The desire to relive that complicity that lives in play: what joy when he comes toward you and grabs your chin, asking, "I'm holding you, I'm holding you by your little beard!" and he bursts out laughing before you even start.
- Marie-Claude Chivot