When and How to Discuss Tragedies With Your Children

The other night, my 6-year-old son looked up from his peanut butter sandwich and asked, “Mom, what’s going on in that place called Gaza? Everybody is talking about it.” I paused, mid-bite, suddenly aware that his little ears had caught news from the TV at his grandparents’ house.

It’s a question many of us face:

When is the right time to talk to our kids about the hard stuff—the floods, wars, tornadoes, or tragedies that fill the headlines?

And just as important, how do we respond when they find out before we’ve had a chance to prepare them?

As a mom of two, and a professional focused on helping families thrive, I’ve learned that the answer isn’t always clear.

But experts agree on one thing: the best conversations start not with the what, but with the who. Who is your child? What’s their age, their temperament, their understanding of the world?

For little ones like my daughter, under age 3, less is more. They don’t need to know details; they need to know they’re safe and loved. If they catch a glimpse of something scary—an image on TV, a worried tone in our voice—we can say something simple like, “Yes, something happened far away, but we’re okay. And helpers are taking care of it.”

As kids get older, they start to absorb more than we realize—especially from school, siblings, or even YouTube ads you didn’t know autoplayed. With children between the ages of 4 and 8, it helps to start by asking what they’ve heard. “What do you know about what happened?” is a good place to begin. That way, you can gently correct any misunderstandings and address fears without offering more than they need.

And when we do explain, we should be honest—but gentle. We can say, “There was a big storm in another part of the country, and some people got hurt. It’s really sad. But there are lots of people helping.” Sharing basic facts without overwhelming them is key. According to the American Academy of Pediatrics, reassurance and emotional support go much further than detailed explanations. They also recommend turning off the TV and avoiding graphic images whenever possible. Kids don’t need a front-row seat to trauma.

Another thing I’ve learned—both from research and from bedtime conversations with my own kids—is that children take their emotional cues from us. If we seem frantic, they’ll feel scared. But if we stay calm and tell the truth with love, they learn it’s okay to feel sad or confused. It’s okay not to have all the answers. In fact, “I don’t know, but I’m here,” might be one of the most comforting things we can say.

When children seem especially affected—clingy, anxious, having nightmares—it might help to create small rituals of safety. Extra snuggles at bedtime. A favorite blanket. Drawing pictures. Or, for older kids, taking action: donating toys, writing a thank-you card to first responders, or simply saying a prayer for those affected. According to Ann Masten, a resilience research professor at the University of Minnesota‘s Institute of Child Development, even young kids can grow stronger through hardship when they have stable relationships, chances to help, and ways to process their feelings.

Of course, we can’t prepare for every question, and we can’t shield our kids from every headline.

But we can be their safe place—the calm in the chaos.

We can turn off the TV and turn toward them. We can hold their hands and help them make sense of a world that, yes, is sometimes scary—but also full of helpers, hope, and healing.

So next time your child asks about the storm, the war, or the thing they overheard in the school hallway, take a breath. Sit with them. Let their questions lead. And remind them—out loud and often—that no matter what happens in the world, they are not alone.

Lauren Hall is the President and CEO of First Things First. Contact her at [email protected].