“I was served soup today… but it wasn’t just soup. It was EYFS soup.”
- Apr 15
- 6 min read
Morning Call - 54321 GO!
So... I was at the gym! My alarm goes off every moring at 5am and since September 2023, I have tried to keep my morning routine. On the first alarm (I only set one), I mentally count down 54321 and I get up and stand up before I get to 1! I know...it sounds crazy right? It is a method I first heard about from Mel Robbins, check it out on her YouTube.
It started with a text.7:22am. I had just finished at the gym... from my lovely Supply Agency...“Any chance you can cover Reception today?” ....instantly YES!! I have been a Reception teacher for 13 of my 15 year teaching career, most of that as EYFS Lead.
I am in such a good routine these days that I had already had work clothes and things packed in my bag in th event that I was called. So I got the school address and it was off to grab a coffee before I set off to teach for the day!
Reception days are always a little unpredictable and often, magical!!
I arrived at the school, met the lovely office staff and was brought to the classroom. The last time I was at this school was a few years ago as part of an EYFS Network - remember those?!
Here they come....
I was met with the usual reception morning hum. You know the one — half the class still peeling off coats, one child announcing what they had for breakfast, another insisting they needed the toilet immediately, and a few already elbow-deep in whatever they’d set their minds to. Also... quite a few staring at me like WHO ARE YOU?
WHY IS YOUR HAIR STICKING UP? YOU SOUND LIKE A PIRATE!!
After I had welcomed the children, carried out the usual morning routine (I even taught them a very quick poem and some makaton...it was time to go and play!)
I ventured into the outdoor area... the weather was glorious!
There’s something about the early morning buzz of an EYFS outdoor space that feels electric. Not loud, not wild — alive. There’s movement, voices, silence, and all of it working in a kind of beautiful disorganised harmony. I wasn’t looking for anything in particular. I wasn’t observing with a clipboard or hovering with a teaching target in mind. I just wanted to see. To notice.
The adult world always wants results... a why behind everything!
And that’s when I saw it.
Over in the mud kitchen, a group of children were fully immersed in a mission of their own. They had claimed the space as their domain — and the centrepiece was a massive silver pan. The kind of pan you’d only ever find in school, or in your granny’s kitchen cupboard, usually next to the Tupperware that’s lost all its lids. It was placed right in the middle of their operation, and it was clear — this was no ordinary water-play kind of day. They were making soup. Not pretend soup. Not a rushed five-minute “pour and dash” kind of concoction.
"They were making soup with soul..."
I stood back. I didn’t say a word. Just watched.
One child was narrating their every move like a pro — “and now we add the flower petals, but not too many or it’ll be spicy.” Another was crouched, fully focused, adding handfuls of freshly cut grass like it was the secret ingredient. There were scoops of sand, smooth pebbles, sloshes of water, bits of bark, and even the odd daisy head dropped in for good measure. It was the kind of creation that would give even the best Michelin-starred chefs a run for their money. What I really liked... they knew it was ok to transport bits and bobs from various areas, to explore. There was no Kim and Aggie about it all... NO PUT IT BACK etc
What really struck me was the variety in how they played. One child stood confidently in the centre, assigning roles, giving commentary like Bake Off. Another, quieter child, just got on with it — no need for words, just hands moving, eyes darting, fully present. And in that space, every kind of play was welcome. Every voice, loud or soft, had value. Some children argued — fiercely debating what should go in next — but just as quickly, they agreed, compromised, moved on. They were learning to negotiate, to respect, to share and build together, in real time, with no adult stepping in to fix it for them. They were being given this time to BE - something that cannnot be taught during a schemed carpet input.....
I couldn’t help but wonder…(Hey Carrie Bradshaw...)
How many moments like this are cut short for us adults to get in there and ask questions, a handwriting group, a quick assessment, or a well-meaning “let’s just get this activity done”?
How many magical play narratives are lost mid-sentence because we ask children to “come and do your job”?
And in that moment, I knew — this wasn’t just soup.
This was EYFS soup!
Rich, layered, messy, collaborative, entirely led by them.
Still, I stayed on the edge, resisting the pull to step in. I could feel myself mentally listing things we might add to enhance it — more bowls, definitely more things to stir with, perhaps some safe herbs or spices to explore scent. But even without any of that, they had everything they needed: time, space, each other.
Then it happened.
One of the children, eyes lit up, turned to the group and said, “Go get Mr Mc — it’s ready!”Seconds later, a little one came racing over to me. “Mr Mc! We made you soup!”Their face was glowing. There was pride in every step. And, honestly, how could I say no?
As I made my way over, I caught sight of another child carefully setting the table beside the kitchen area. A few mismatched bowls, bits of soggy leaf and leftover concoctions from earlier, a spoon that had clearly seen better days — it was far from tidy, but it was theirs. It was theirs in the way that only true, uninterrupted play allows. There was no adult-set context, no pre-prepared role-play area with signs and laminated menus. Just imagination, materials, and freedom.
I sat down on the wet wooden chair they’d pulled out for me. It was damp, slightly wobbly, and completely perfect. A child handed me a bowl of their soup, carefully poured from that glorious silver pan. I gave it a sniff, pretended to sip, made all the appropriate “Mmm” sounds. One child whispered, “Careful, it’s hot!” and another reached out to blow gently across the top — mimicking a moment that clearly lived in their home experiences.
And right there, surrounded by mud, soggy petals, the echoes of giggles and tiny spatters of disagreement and collaboration… I felt it. This wasn’t just soup. It was confidence. It was communication. It was imagination, memory, and belonging. It was a group of young children creating something together, from nothing... but their own ideas and curiosity.
I didn’t lead any of it.
But I was invited in.
That’s the power of child-led play.
So I ask you…
When was the last time you let the play go on just a little longer?
When did you last pause before calling them in?
Are we giving children the space to truly own their play — or are we unintentionally filling it?
We talk about developing communication and language, problem-solving, personal and social skills…
Well, I saw all of that in a muddy pot of grass and flower soup, served at a wobbly wooden table, by children who didn’t need a success criteria to know they’d nailed it.
That bowl of soup might’ve been cold, murky, and definitely questionable if you looked too closely…But it was the best thing I was served all day.
And I’ll never forget it.
If you need support for your Outdoor area - Mr Mc The Classroom Coach is here to support you.
You can enauire about booking me to provide CPD around outdoor learning (provision, play and interactions)
or you can access my on demand training below!
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