It happened over pancakes. My daughter, eight years old, syrup on her chin, hair a mess, asked, “Mum, when do I get boobs?”
Cue choking on my tea.
I mumbled something about “everyone grows at different times” and quickly changed the subject to school lunches. But later that night, lying in bed, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. If she’s asking that now, what else is swirling around in that little head of hers that I’m too awkward, too busy, or too clueless to address?
And that’s when it hit me. Age ten isn’t the start of big conversations, it’s the cut-off.
The window is open now. And if we wait too long, we risk silence where there should be connection.
So here it is: 7 conversations every parent should have before their kid turns 10. The real, no-fluff version.
1. What It Means to Be a Good Friend
One day my daughter came home from school devastated. Her “best mate” had excluded her at lunchtime, and when she cried, the other kids laughed. I was livid, but more than that, I realised she didn’t know how to choose good friends, let alone be one.
So the next day during a snuggle on the couch, not in the middle of drama, I asked “what do you think makes someone a good friend?” I let her think. Then I shared my own thoughts: “A good friend listens, is kind, doesn’t laugh when someone is hurt, and stands up for people who need help.”
If they tell you about friendship problems, validate their feelings: “That must have felt really lonely.” Then guide them: “How did you respond? What could you do next time?” Use real examples from your own life, kids love hearing that adults struggle with friendships too.
Finally, role-play a tricky scenario together: “Let’s say someone teases another kid. What could you say?” This gives them scripts to use when the pressure is on.
2. The “Your Body, Your Rules” Chat
Start casually, maybe when helping them get dressed or brushing hair. Say, “You know how we talk about being safe and respectful? That also means understanding that your body belongs to you.” Then pause. Let that sink in.
Ask, “Has anyone ever touched you or done something that felt yucky or weird?” If they say no, say, “I’m glad, but if it ever happens, even if it’s someone we know, you can always tell me. I will always believe you.”
Then practice. Make it fun and empowering. Say, “Let’s try saying, ‘Stop, I don’t like that!’ in your silliest voice.” Laugh together. Then do it again in a strong, serious voice. Help them find their ‘power voice,’ the one they’ll need on the playground, at a party, or anywhere else. Reinforce: “Even if someone says they’re just joking, if you don’t like it, you can say no.”
Close with a safety net: “No matter what happens, you will never be in trouble for telling me.”
This conversation isn’t just about preventing harm; it’s about raising a child who knows their worth and doesn’t shrink to make others comfortable.
3. Where Babies Actually Come From
Start when they least expect it, like during bath time or making lunch. Say, “Hey, has anyone ever talked to you about how babies are made?” They might giggle, go silent, or try to escape. Keep it calm. Smile. Say, “You can ask me anything, even the weird or embarrassing stuff.”
Then give them the facts, not a fairy tale. Say, “Babies grow in a special place called a uterus. To start growing, it needs a tiny cell from a man and a tiny cell from a woman.” Let them ask follow-ups. They might ask, “How do the cells get together?” Don’t panic. Say, “There’s a special way adults do that, called sex, but it’s only for grown-ups who care about each other.”
Keep it simple. Don’t flood them with details they didn’t ask for. And if you feel nervous, admit it. “This is a bit awkward for me too, but I want you to hear it from me, not kids on the bus or random YouTube videos.”
End with, “You can always ask me more questions, now or whenever you’re ready.” Then walk away like a boss who just handled that.
4. How to Handle Big Emotions Without Exploding
Ever had a child scream at you because you gave them the wrong colour plate? Same. It’s not about the plate, it’s about them not knowing what to do with those big feelings.
So pick a calm moment, not right after a tantrum. Maybe during bedtime snuggles or while drawing together. Say, “You know how sometimes you feel so mad you want to scream or throw something?” Wait. They’ll probably nod. “That happens to me too. Just the other day, I wanted to throw my phone out the window.”
Laugh about it, then shift. Say, “Feelings are like waves, they come and go. You can’t stop the wave, but you can learn to surf it.”
Then practice. Pretend to get angry. Say, “I’m soooo mad I could stomp!” Then show a calming tool. “Watch me take a dragon breath, deep in, then blow out the fire.” Let them try. Make it silly. Name their feelings together: “Is that feeling a grumpy bear? A storm cloud?”
Make a plan: “Next time you feel that storm cloud coming, what could you do?” Let them pick. Offer choices: breathing, walking away, squeezing a pillow. Celebrate when they try, even if it’s messy: “You didn’t yell, you went to your calm-down spot. That’s strong.”
Remind them, “You’re not bad for feeling big things, you’re learning to be the boss of them.”
5. What Makes Our Family Unique (And Safe)
A friend’s daughter was told at school that her family was “weird” because her dad stayed home and mum worked full-time. Cue tears.
Having this conversation is important because kids crave belonging, and they need language to celebrate their own family, not apologise for it.
So, gather around the table or during a lazy Sunday breakfast. Say, “I love our family, have you ever noticed how different families do things differently?” Share a fun story from your childhood. “When I was your age, my grandma lived with us, and we all shared one bathroom!”
Then ask, “What do you love about our family?” Let them answer, even if it’s “we order pizza a lot” or “we have dance parties in the kitchen.” Validate it.
Now shift to the deeper bit. Say, “In our family, we have rules to keep each other safe and loved.” List them: “We listen to each other. We speak kindly. If someone is sad, we help.” Ask, “Can you think of a time you helped someone in our family feel better?”
Then tackle comparison. Say, “Some kids might say our family is weird, but that’s because they don’t understand us. And that’s okay. We’re proud of who we are.” Make a “family motto” together. Something silly or serious like, “Team Smith: Always There, Even With Messy Hair.”
When kids know where they belong, they face the world taller.
6. Money: What It Is and How We Use It
My nine-year-old asked if we were “rich” because we had an Alexa. Meanwhile, she thought we could “just buy a house” like ordering takeaway. Kids don’t magically learn about money, they need to see it, talk about it, understand it.
Later, when I was paying for groceries, I invited her in. “Hey, want to see how we budget for the week?” Showed her our list. Say, “We’ve got £100 for food. Let’s plan together.”
Then explained: “Money helps us get things we need, like food, and things we want, like toys. But we have to choose, because money isn’t endless.”
Give them hands-on experience. “Here’s £5. Let’s go to the shop, and you can pick what to buy, but only with this.” Watch how they light up, and struggle. Talk about trade-offs. “If you buy this now, you won’t have enough for that later.”
Bring it home. Say, “We work hard to earn money. That’s why we think before we spend, save for things we care about, and sometimes give to people who need help.”
Let them ask questions: “Are we rich?” Say, “We have enough to meet our needs and some wants, and that’s something to be thankful for.”
Teaching money isn’t about numbers, it’s about values.
7. Why It’s Okay to Fail (And What Comes Next)
My kid cried for an hour after losing a spelling bee. Not because of the loss, but because she thought it meant she was “bad at everything.” That’s when I realised we’d praised her for success, but never taught her how to fail.
After they mess up, miss a goal, fail a test, spill the juice everywhere, resist the urge to fix it. Instead, say, “That stinks. I get why you’re upset.”
Sit with them in the feeling. Then say, “Want to hear a time I really blew it?” Share your own epic fail, lost job, burnt dinner, forgot something important. Laugh about it.
Ask, “What did I do after I messed up?” Let them guess. Then say, “I learned, I tried again, and I didn’t quit. That’s what matters.”
Introduce the idea of ‘yet.’ “You can’t do it yet, but you’re learning. Every time you try, your brain gets stronger.”
When they try something hard, praise effort, not outcome. “You kept trying even when it was hard. That’s courage.”
Create a ‘fail wall’ at home. Post funny flops or drawings of mistakes. Make failure normal, even fun. Say, “In this family, we don’t fear failing, we celebrate trying.”
Because resilience isn’t born, it’s taught, one wobble at a time.
The Window Is Now
By age 10, kids are already writing the script for how they see the world, and their place in it. You don’t need to have all the answers. You just need to start the conversations.
Because if you don’t, someone else will.
