One in five callers to What's Up, Barnardos’ free counselling helpline for children, is under the age of 10.

My son will turn five this year, old enough to call.

He loves dressing up as a pirate, biking on the pump track near our house, speaks English and French, and loves bedtime stories. He’s caring, curious, stubborn, and deeply attached to me and his dad.

Right now, I am his person, alongside his dad. The ones he comes to when he’s hurt, scared, overwhelmed, or needs reassurance that the world is still safe.

And of course, I hope that lasts forever.

But I’m realistic enough to know it won’t. There will be moments, whole seasons of his life, when I’m not the person he wants to talk to. When feelings are too big, confusing, or too close to home. When talking to mum feels harder than staying silent.

What matters is that he grows up knowing there is nothing wrong with asking for help, and that help can come from more than one place.

That's why I believe even very young children can benefit from talking to a counsellor. Learning to name emotions, ask for support, and trust safe adults is a language. Like learning English and French, emotional language is easier to learn early.

Every year, hundreds of primary and intermediate-aged children reach out to What’s Up. For very young children, it often starts with a trusted adult helping them make that first call.

Once connected, even a five-year-old can talk about their day, worries, or what makes them happy or sad.

Take Adam, who is eight. In a short period, Adam’s life changed dramatically. His parents’ separation became more conflicted. He moved towns with his mum and started at a new school. He overheard arguments between the adults he depended on most.

Then Adam lost his grandfather, someone he was very close to.

Adam didn’t reach out in crisis or pour his heart out straight away. At first, conversations with his counsellor were light: favourite movies, things he enjoyed, small check-ins.

And then, slowly, trust formed.

Over time, Adam began to talk about what was happening at home. He learnt to recognise emotions and put words to them, practised coping strategies and explored who else in his life felt safe.

This is what early support often looks like. Not dramatic disclosures. Not perfectly articulated feelings. Just a relationship built at a child’s pace.

A child who has spoken to a counsellor before learns something important: this is a safe place. If one day things feel heavier or too hard to say out loud, they already know where to go.

That matters because some children are navigating grief, family conflict, violence, poverty, bullying or mental distress long before they have any control over their circumstances. The hardship is hard enough; going through it alone makes it worse.

Our counsellors are often the first people a child or young person tells, and they’ve been doing it for 25 years. Anonymity can make honesty feel safer and become a bridge back into real-world support when a child is ready.

I want my son to grow up knowing that big emotions aren’t something to be ashamed of. That asking for help doesn’t mean you’ve failed; it means you’re human. And that support isn’t limited to one person, even a loving parent.

If one day he can’t talk to me, I want him to know there are other safe adults out there whose job it is to listen and support him.

Across Aotearoa, tamariki and rangatahi are already showing us they want help. A recent Barnardos survey found 76% of schools have seen an increase in students seeking counselling, up from 60% previously. Yet more than half say the services available aren’t enough to meet demand.

Seeking help isn’t the problem; access is.

Children are already doing the hardest part: finding the courage to ask for support. Our schools are trying to respond, but they can't keep up.

If we want young people to reach out before things spiral, support needs to be familiar, accessible and shame-free from the earliest years.

As a parent, I don't need my son to tell me everything. I need him to know that help is always an option, with me or with someone else who knows how to listen.

One day, the boy who fearlessly bikes the pump track and dresses up as a pirate will face fears he can't costume his way out of.

When that day comes, I want him to be just as confident asking for help as he is asking me to watch him do a jump.

  • Elodie Berthe is Barnardos Aotearoa communications and advocacy manager and mother of two.