Most advice about children and gifts focuses on teaching them to say thank you gracefully, even when they're disappointed.
That's half the picture.
I've been thinking about this more since having kids. The thank-you part gets covered endlessly: scripts for gracious receiving, how to handle the moment when your child unwraps something and their face falls. But teaching children to be thoughtful givers gets surprisingly little attention.
That's the part that actually sticks. The child who learns to notice what someone else might want, who feels genuine pleasure in choosing the right gift, grows into an adult who maintains strong relationships and finds real satisfaction in generosity.
It doesn't happen automatically, though.
Why Giving Matters More Than Receiving
I remember the Christmas when my eldest was about seven. He'd spent weeks deciding what to get his younger sister, eventually settling on a small stuffed owl because she'd recently become obsessed with them. He wrapped it himself, badly, with too much sellotape and a bow that kept falling off.
Watching him watch her open it was the highlight of the whole day. He was practically vibrating. When she squealed and immediately tucked the owl under her arm, he looked at me like he'd won something.
The best part of gift giving isn't receiving. It's the moment before someone opens something you chose carefully for them.
Adults know this. Children don't arrive with the understanding. Young children are naturally self-focused, and that's fine. A three-year-old asked what to get for Grandma will suggest their own favourite toy. But they can learn, gradually, that choosing a gift means thinking about what someone else would love.
How Involvement Changes With Age
I've learned not to push too hard too early.
The very young ones (under five)
Participation at this age is about exposure, not decision-making. Let them help wrap presents, even if the result involves more tape than paper. Let them hand over the gift. Include them when you write cards.
These small things plant a seed: gift giving is something our family does together.
Primary school age (five to eleven)
This is when things get interesting. Children start understanding that other people have different preferences than their own.
I started asking guiding questions around this age. "What does Grandpa like to do?" "What colours does your cousin love?" They don't always get it right. Sometimes they still choose based on what they would want. But the practice matters more than perfection.
By eight or nine, they can join family gift discussions. I let them hear me weighing options, rejecting ideas, sometimes deciding that an experience might be better than an object. They absorb more than you'd think.
If you're planning a child's birthday and want gift giving to go smoothly, I've written separately about how to approach the whole day without stress.
Tweens and teens
Teenagers have the capacity to be genuinely thoughtful givers. They can observe, remember conversations from months ago, plan ahead. The challenge is usually motivation.
What's worked for me is making it collaborative. Asking for their input. Letting them take complete ownership of one person's present. Some teenagers surprise everyone once given the space.
What Wish Lists Actually Teach
Wish lists might seem transactional, just a list of demands. I used to think that.
I've changed my mind. A child who maintains a wish list learns to distinguish between fleeting wants and genuine desires. Something essential in September often feels irrelevant by December. The act of curating (adding, removing, reconsidering) builds self-awareness.
If you're new to wish lists or want to get more from them, We've written a longer guide to how they work and why they're worth the effort.
When to hand over control
I managed my kids' lists entirely when they were small. We'd build them together, but I controlled what appeared and who saw it.
Around eight, I shifted to supervised lists. They could add items themselves, but I'd review periodically: removing anything inappropriate, checking for impulse additions, making sure there was a range of prices.
My teenager now manages her own list. Occasionally I'll mention that a list containing only expensive items might need some balance. Mostly she's figured it out.
Teaching moderation
An unlimited wish list teaches nothing except how to want more.
We use a loose version of the "four gift" idea: something you want, something you need, something to wear, something to read. It's not rigid, but it encourages thinking beyond pure indulgence. Setting a maximum number of items helps too. Fifteen things forces prioritisation. What actually matters?
Giftwhale Tip: Child accounts let you manage wish lists for little ones, then gradually hand over control as they get older. You stay in the loop without micromanaging.
The Grandparent Question
Every family navigates this differently. Few navigate it without friction.
Understanding helps
Many grandparents are making up for their own parenting years, times when they were too busy or stretched to give their children everything they wanted. Grandchildren feel like a second chance.
This explains why "could you buy fewer things?" can feel, to a grandparent, like "could you love them less?"
What's actually worked for us
Rather than asking grandparents to stop giving, I've tried redirecting.
Sharing wish lists proactively has been the biggest help. When grandparents know exactly what the kids want, they choose from the list rather than buying randomly. Fewer duplicates, fewer unwanted items, less stuff overall.
I've also suggested experience gifts: zoo memberships, cinema trips, swimming lessons. Many grandparents find this more satisfying once they try it. They're part of the experience, not just funding another toy that gets forgotten.
Giftwhale Tip: Adding grandparents as friends on Giftwhale lets them see wish lists and coordinate with other relatives. It's gentler than difficult conversations about buying less.
When the conversation is unavoidable
Focus on shared goals. You both want the children to be happy, grateful, and not overwhelmed.
Acknowledge the love behind the giving before suggesting changes. Be specific. "Could you pick two or three things from the list?" is clearer than "Could you buy less?"
Some grandparents adapt easily. Others won't. And honestly, if someone refuses to respect a reasonable boundary after you've explained it clearly, that's a relationship problem, not a gift problem. I've learned not to let gift-giving friction become a stand-in for bigger conversations that need to happen anyway.
Gratitude That's Actually Felt
Scripted gratitude often backfires: children going through the motions without feeling anything.
What's worked better for me is focusing on the thought behind the gift rather than demanding instant enthusiasm. When my kids receive something, I direct their attention to the effort: "Auntie Sarah remembered you love dinosaurs. She must have been thinking about you when she found this."
That lands differently than "Say thank you properly."
The disappointing gift moment
Every parent knows it. The face falls. The honest but devastating "I already have this."
I've learned not to shame them publicly. Young children genuinely cannot separate their internal feeling from their external expression. That's developmental, not rudeness.
Later, privately: "I noticed you seemed disappointed. It's okay to feel that way. But the person who gave it chose it because they care about you, and that matters even when the gift isn't quite right."
Over time, they learn that graciousness is a kindness to the giver.
Small Things That Add Up
I don't have a grand system. Just small practices that seem to help.
We give to others before exchanging family gifts at Christmas. Sometimes a donation, sometimes preparing something for neighbours. It sets a tone.
I share my thought process when I'm gift hunting. "I'm stuck on what to get your uncle. He doesn't really need anything, but I remembered he mentioned wanting to learn guitar..." The kids hear what consideration sounds like.
Homemade gifts get celebrated equally. When one of my kids makes something for a sibling, it's received with the same appreciation as a purchased item.
None of this is revolutionary. But it accumulates.
