The Concrete Operational Stage, which spans roughly from ages 7 to 11, marks a turning point in children’s cognitive development. Jean Piaget described it as the moment when kids stop being fully immersed in their internal world and start understanding the external one through their own kind of logic. In other words, they go from being little poets of fantasy to little scientists of concrete thinking. They still struggle with abstract ideas, but they can now solve real-world problems, understand cause-and-effect relationships, and surprise you with questions like: “If water evaporates, where does it go?” or “Why does time go faster on weekends?” (a question adults still can’t answer clearly, by the way).

One of the key abilities that emerges during this stage is conservation—the understanding that certain properties of objects remain the same even when their appearance changes. That is, if you pour the same amount of juice from a tall glass into a short, wide one, they no longer panic thinking you’ve given them less. Basic math starts to make sense, and kids become little justice auditors, counting every candy with the precision of a seasoned accountant. If there’s an extra candy, it must be split evenly… unless they can argue, “I earned it because I did the dishes.”

During this period, kids also develop seriation (the ability to order objects based on characteristics like size or weight) and classification. They now understand that a dog is an animal, but not all animals are dogs (amazing, but true). Their thinking becomes reversible, allowing them to grasp that if 3+2=5, then 5-2=3. It may sound simple, but it’s a monumental leap from the magical thinking of earlier stages.

Lev Vygotsky, on the other hand, continues to emphasize the importance of social interaction as the engine of cognitive development. For him, learning is still deeply shaped by the child’s cultural and social environment. At this point, the “Zone of Proximal Development” becomes more sophisticated, since children can now engage in more complex activities with the right guidance. Vygotsky speaks not just of learning to do, but of learning to think in a new way—more reflective and collaborative. That’s why an adult who asks provocative questions like “What do you think?” or introduces strategic games is helping cultivate more critical, structured thinking.

Language remains an essential tool. Children no longer just narrate their play; they begin to use language to plan, reflect, and argue. Where they once said “because I said so,” now they’ll present arguments worthy of a board meeting: “If my sister had two ice creams this week and I only had one, then I deserve another one to make it fair.” Welcome to the era of emerging moral thinking, where justice becomes a life philosophy.

Socially, this is the golden age of friendships. Kids form groups, teams, and secret clubs. The rules of the game no longer change halfway through (well, almost never), and peer conflicts become opportunities to practice negotiation, empathy, and leadership. They learn they can get along even with someone who thinks differently, and that being part of a group comes with responsibilities—like sharing, taking turns, and not blatantly cheating (though there’s always one who tries).

Academically, this stage is crucial for solidifying reading, writing, and problem-solving skills. Kids start to see learning not just as a requirement, but as a way to discover how the world works. More defined interests emerge: some fall in love with science, others with maps, art, or random facts—like how much an elephant weighs or what happened in 3500 BC (spoiler: not much, but they still want to know).

And as is tradition, let’s return to the eternal cookie dilemma. At this stage, the debate is no longer about whether a broken cookie is worth less or if one piece is bigger. Now things get serious: “If there are four cookies and three of us, there’s one left over. But if I washed the dishes yesterday and no one helped me, I think I deserve the extra one.” Yes, we’re witnessing a moral evolution: the rise of childhood utilitarian reasoning. And if there’s a dispute, expect arguments, evidence, precedents, and maybe even a mini protest with crossed arms.

In short, the concrete operational stage is when children become logical explorers of the world, guided by a mix of curiosity, a hunger for fairness, and a drive to understand how things work. And even if they no longer believe their toys have souls (well, some still do), they now firmly believe in fairness, clear rules, and that every good argument should end with a cookie—or two, if the case was strong enough.

Being a parent is not just about educating, providing, and protecting; it is also, often without realizing it, about not projecting our emotional burdens onto our children. Children learn not only from what we tell them but also from what they see us do and what they feel at home. And when stress, anxiety, or adult worries seep into their daily lives, they may end up taking on responsibilities that do not belong to them.

Adult stress does not magically disappear, and it often manifests at home in subtle but significant ways. When a parent comes home from work frustrated, with a furrowed brow and short responses, the child learns to measure their words, to see expressing emotions as risky, or to feel responsible for calming others. Without realizing it, we teach them that the well-being of the home depends on them, when in reality, it is the adults who must manage their own emotions.

Furthermore, in an attempt to lighten our own burden, we sometimes delegate responsibilities to children that do not belong to them. It is not uncommon to see children comforting their parents, mediating family conflicts, or even taking on the role of emotional support. Phrases like «Don’t say that to Mom, she’s tired» or «Behave so Dad doesn’t get angry» send the message that they are responsible for the well-being of the adults. But a child should not have to worry about their parents’ emotional state or feel that their behavior determines the family’s stability.

This also happens with household responsibilities. It is important for children to learn habits and contribute according to their age, but when they start taking on tasks meant for adults—caring for younger siblings, managing family issues, or handling matters beyond their capacity—they are forced to grow up too soon. They develop a sense that they must always be available for others, that their own well-being is secondary, and that rest is a luxury they cannot afford.

We want our children to be responsible, to face life with maturity, but not at the cost of their childhood. Independence and a sense of responsibility develop in a healthy way when children grow up in an environment where their emotions are validated, where they can make mistakes without fear, and where they do not have to carry the weight of adult problems.

As parents, the challenge is to learn how to manage our own emotions without transferring them onto our children. It is okay to have difficult days, but it is not fair for them to become our therapists, assistants, or the guardians of our emotional stability. Our duty is to guide them, support them, and allow them to grow up in a safe environment, without the weight of the adult world on their shoulders. In the end, the greatest lesson we can teach them is not to carry responsibilities that do not belong to them, but to live their childhood with the lightness and joy they deserve.

Being a parent is not just about providing, educating, and loving; it is also, often without realizing it, becoming the first mirror in which our children see themselves. From a young age, they learn by observing us—beyond what we directly tell them. It doesn’t matter how many times we insist that they be kind, empathetic, and responsible if, at the same time, they see us behaving in the opposite way in our daily lives. The truth is that many of the attitudes we have as adults are unconsciously passed down to them.

For example, in the adult world, we constantly accumulate emotions. At work, in daily life, with friends, and even with family, we often hide what we truly feel. We suppress anger to avoid conflict, pretend we are okay when we are not, and carry frustrations without allowing ourselves to express them. The problem? Our children see us. They learn that expressing emotions is not safe or appropriate, that they must keep their feelings inside because «that’s just how life is.» And without realizing it, we teach them that vulnerability is a weakness when, in reality, it is a fundamental part of emotional well-being.

We want our children to be generous, to share, and to genuinely want the best for their friends, but what do they see in us? At work, in social circles, or even within the family, we sometimes act with ulterior motives. It might be that moment when we secretly hope a colleague makes a mistake so we can point it out or when we quietly celebrate that someone didn’t achieve what they hoped for. If our children see us taking pleasure in others’ failures or constantly comparing ourselves to others, they will learn that success is not about growing together but about being above others.

Then there is the matter of effort and perseverance. We want our children to be hardworking, to not give up easily when faced with difficulties, but what happens when they see us give up on something because it seems too hard? If they hear us constantly complaining about work, responsibilities, or life’s challenges, what message are we sending them? If we want our children to understand the importance of effort, we must demonstrate it ourselves. Facing challenges with determination, seeking solutions instead of excuses, and showing that every effort has its reward is the best way to instill these values.

Throughout life, we interact with all kinds of people—loved ones and strangers alike—and one of the greatest qualities a person can have is how they treat others. We want our children to be respectful, to listen to others, and to be tolerant, but how do we talk about people when we think no one is listening? How do we speak about someone who has hurt us or someone we disagree with? If our children see us speaking poorly of others or showing contempt, they will learn that respect is only applied when it is convenient. The way we treat those around us is one of the most powerful lessons we can pass on, and it is essential to ensure that it is a positive one.

The reality is that our children absorb not only what we teach them with words but also what we show them through our actions. It is not enough to tell them how they should be—we must embody it ourselves first. The question we should ask ourselves is not just what we are teaching but what we are modeling with our own attitudes. Because at the end of the day, they don’t just listen to what we say; they learn from who we are and how we navigate life.