Mr Low In The Flow - A Delightful Mindful Story For Children

There is a grand, old toad who lives in a beautiful stream at the bottom of the forest nearby. One morning, Mr Low awoke to find that he had a lump in his throat. When he opened his mouth to speak, he heard his beloved croak had disappeared. Now, he was too embarrassed to talk. That night he hid under a lily-pad leaf while the insect chorus shrilled through the air. Everyone wondered why the toad's bass sound was missing. It took a little fish called Swishy, from the nearby lake, to encourage dear old Mr Low to join the orchestra again, with or without his big voice. These days the old toad goes by the name of Mr Flow and it's all thanks to dear Swishy who showed him how to go with the flow.
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Transcript

Mr. Lowe in the Flow There is a grand old toad who lives in a beautiful stream at the bottom of the forest nearby. Mr. Lowe is his name. Mr. Lowe is very proud of his deep, Deep croak, For no one can make sounds as low as he can. Oh, How he delights in greeting the forest folk each evening at dusk. One autumn afternoon, Mr. Lowe woke to find that he had a lump in his throat. It was big and bulged out and felt strange. Perhaps it will make my croak deeper, He thought. But when he opened his mouth to listen to his beloved voice, Instead of hearing the usual deep bellow, He heard only a small croak. I sound like, Like a frog, He thought. I'm not a frog, He grumbled. I'm a toad. Throughout that afternoon, When the insects and small creatures greeted him, Mr. Lowe just smiled and nodded his head. He was too embarrassed to talk. He did not want anyone to know that he had lost his deep croak. That night, He hid under the leaf of a lily pad while the insect chorus shrolled through the air. Everyone wondered why the toad's bass sound was missing. The next morning dawned bright and clear, Necks sparkled from the kisses of the sun. Mr. Lowe stretched and smiled, Feeling quite lovely after an extra long sleep. When he opened his mouth to send out his familiar greeting, Memories of his small voice came rushing back, Filling him with dread. The lump in his throat was still there. Good morning, Mr. Lowe, Piped a little fish from below the water. Mr. Lowe just stared. I said, Good morning. Mr. Lowe grunted. Are you not feeling well? Clearly, The young fish was not going to leave until he heard an answer. So, Mr. Lowe decided to whisper, I'm sorry. But even with his voice soft, Mr. Lowe could not fool the fish. Oh dear, It sounds like you have a sore throat. Mr. Lowe nodded. That's why you weren't at the chorus last night. Mr. Lowe nodded again. I will go and call Mr. Kingfisher. He always knows what to do. Mr. Lowe's heart sang. He didn't want anyone else to hear he'd lost his quote. So, With all the might he couldn't muster, He blurted out, No. It was meant to be bold, But what came out was a small squeak. No. The little fish stopped. If the old toad did not want help from the wise Mr. Kingfisher, Then he, Swishy, Would have to do something. He shook his tail very hard. Swishing his tail always helped him to think. Do you know what I do when I feel down? I swim. Look, Like this. Swishy glided into the middle of the lake and then stopped. From there he let the water take him whichever way it went. At first it swirled towards the big rock, And here Swishy gently bumped himself back into the center of the pond again. Then the movement led him across to the other side, Where the long reeds tickled his belly until he laughed and laughed. Did you see that? He called to Mr. Lowe. All you have to do is let go. Let the water take you and go with the flow. And then Swishy was gone. Mr. Lowe grunted and mumbled to himself. The only thing Mr. Lowe could think of to do was sleep. So he lowered his thick eyelids and allowed the warmth of the sun to soothe his throat. Gently, Slowly, He fell fast asleep. Later that day, When the sun was getting ready to go to bed, The forest folk made their way down to the edge of the lake for the evening chorus. Would you believe, Mr. Lowe was still sleeping on the same rock he had fallen asleep on that morning. Look, Mr. Lowe is back, Called out a young cricket. Glad to see you again, Mr. Lowe, Chirped Mr. Cricket. Mr. Lowe began to stir and opened his heavy eyelids. You can imagine his surprise when he saw that he was surrounded by hundreds of his friends, All looking at him. Mr. Lowe swallowed. The dreadful lump was still there. What was he to do? What happened to you last night, Old chap, Asked the dragonfly. Mr. Lowe had no choice. He had to answer. That's when he saw Swishy flicking his little tail around a small stone. He remembered what the young fish had shown him earlier and thought, It's worth a try. Mr. Lowe took a deep breath in, And as he let it out, He let go of all his worries about his voice and what the others might think. My throat is a bit lumpy, Said the toad. The creatures looked at him with understanding, Nodding their heads and saying, That's why I cannot sing with you anymore, Continued Mr. Lowe. My voice is just not the same. There was a long pause, And then Mrs. Beetle spoke. I think it would be lovely if you could use your new sound for the chorus. All the little frogs hopped around with glee at this suggestion. Please, Please, Please, Please, Please, Please, They pleaded. Mr. Lowe was taken aback. He couldn't believe he had been hiding from his friends who were all so understanding. Well, He squeaked, If you think it would be okay. Before he could finish, The crowd was cheering. The oldest cricket, Who was also the conductor, Picked up his stick and began conducting the musicians into their evening of song. Oh, How the forest folks sang that night. The beetles strummed their bass cellos. The crickets created a lively rhythm on their fiddles, While the frogs sang along in harmony. Mr. Lowe added his sound effects here and there, Like a dash of salt and pepper. Just the right amount at the right time. When the moon was high in the sky, The players were tired out and ready for rest. As the last note echoed across the lake, Animals, Insects, Fairies and elves wished each other goodnight and slipped quietly into their homes. Mr. Lowe sighed a very happy sigh as he relaxed on a lily leaf. He hadn't had such fun in a long time. The next morning, A familiar tinkling sound greeted the old toad's ears. Good morning, Called Swishy. Oh, My dear little friend, Good morning. The toad stopped. Swishy stopped. They both looked at each other. Your voice! It's back, Squealed Swishy. Indeed it is, The toad bellowed and crooned and nearly swooned in delight. Ah, Thank you, Dear voice, For returning. I missed you. But I also learned a great lesson while you were away. Taught to me by Swishy. Thank you, Young one. Swishy beamed. No sweat, Mr. Lowe, He said. Oh, I am not Mr. Lowe anymore. From now on I go by the name of Mr. Flow. Swishy laughed as he swam around singing. Mr. Lowe is in the flow. In the flow is Mr. Lowe. Mr. Flow, Flow, Flow, Flow, Flow.

Reviews

What a delightful fun listening experience! Thank you Helen 🤗😃🌿🐸🐟💦

Fun! Just let go and get in the flow! Thanks for the smile Helen! ☺️💦 🐸