Feeling your kids pull away stings.
You cook dinner, ask how their day went, and get a shrug. You crack a joke, and they disappear into their room.
If that sounds familiar, you’re not alone—and it doesn’t mean you’re a bad parent. It usually means the old way of relating isn’t working anymore, and it’s time to retire a few habits that quietly push kids further from us.
I don’t pretend to have all the answers. I’ve been a dad, and now I’m a granddad who spends a lot of time ambling around the park, trying to keep up with scooters and stories.
What I do know is that closeness grows when we make it easy—and safe—for our kids to come toward us. Here are eight behaviors to say goodbye to, and what to do instead.
1) Stop lecturing and start listening
Be honest: do your “conversations” sound like a podcast where you’re the only host? I’ve fallen into this more times than I care to admit. The impulse is loving—we want to protect and guide. But long speeches feel like spotlights. Most kids dodge spotlights.
Try this instead:
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Lead with curiosity: “Want to vent or want ideas?” Let them choose.
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Mirror, don’t fix: “So the group project felt unfair, and you’re frustrated. Did I get that right?”
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Shorten by half. Whatever you were about to say, say half. Then ask, “What else?”
And yes, phones down, eyes up—yours and theirs. If attention is the currency of connection, multitasking is a tax that makes kids feel like a low priority.
2) Quit fixing everything
Last month, one of my grandkids wanted to build a wonky cardboard fort in the living room. My hands were itching to “help” (which is code for taking over). I shoved my hands in my pockets and asked, “What’s your plan?” Ten minutes later, the fort was lopsided and perfect—because it was theirs.
Rescuing every time teaches dependence and signals, “I don’t trust you to try.” Distance grows from there.
Instead:
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Ask process questions: “What’s your first step?” “What have you already tried?”
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Offer a tool, not a takeover: “Need tape or a second pair of hands?”
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Reserve your help for safety issues and genuine dead-ends. Otherwise, let them wrestle with it.
3) Don’t dismiss their feelings
“You’re fine.” “It’s not a big deal.” “You’re overreacting.” These phrases seem harmless, but they tell kids their inner world doesn’t count. If my emotions don’t matter to you, why would I bring them to you?
Replace dismissal with the three N’s: name, normalize, navigate.
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Name: “Sounds like you’re embarrassed and angry.”
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Normalize: “Anyone would feel that way after being left out.”
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Navigate: “Want to brainstorm how to handle lunch tomorrow?”
You don’t have to agree to empathize. Validating emotions is not the same as validating behavior.
4) Cut the constant criticism
Many parents call it “guidance,” but kids experience it as a steady drip: your tone, your shoes, your homework, your posture, your friends. Drip by drip, the bucket fills with the message, “Nothing is ever quite good enough.” That message makes kids retreat.
A few swaps help:
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Ask permission to coach: “Open to a suggestion or want me to zip it?”
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Aim for a 2:1 ratio: two appreciations for every correction. “Thanks for walking the dog without being asked. Also, can you hang your coat next time?”
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Correct the behavior, not the person: “The dishes need rinsing,” not “You’re so lazy.”
If you catch yourself nitpicking, call a time-out on yourself: “Hold on. I’m in fix-it mode. Let me reset.”
5) Retire guilt, shame, and sarcasm
“After everything I do for you…” “Must be nice to ignore your family.” “Wow, look who remembered we exist.” Guilt and sarcasm might get a quick reaction, but the cost is trust. Shame tells kids they’re unworthy unless they perform. Sarcasm is just anger in a clown suit.
Try direct language:
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Name your feeling and need: “I felt worried when you were late. Next time, please text me.”
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Set clear, calm consequences that fit: “If the curfew’s missed, tomorrow’s curfew moves thirty minutes earlier.”
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Keep your tone boring. Drama escalates; calm contains.
Respectful boundaries work better than emotional booby traps.
6) Respect boundaries and privacy
This one can be tough, especially for those of us who grew up in door-open households. But snooping through their phone, barging into their room, or sharing their stories without consent communicates, “Your life isn’t yours.” Kids who don’t feel ownership build distance to protect themselves.
Consider:
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Knock and wait. If they say, “One minute,” honor it.
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Ask before sharing their stories or photos: “Okay if I tell Aunt Jo about your art show?”
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Keep adult burdens adult-sized. Venting about finances or your relationship with them as the sounding board is a form of parentifying. If they’re carrying your weight, they’ll set down the relationship to rest.
For tech, set transparent check-ins you both agree to (“We’ll do a monthly phone review together”) instead of secret raids at midnight.
7) Drop comparisons and conditional love
“Why can’t you be more like your sister?” “Ben studies without being told.” Even subtle comparisons—“Your cousin already got into AP”—can turn home into a scoreboard. A scoreboard isn’t a place you go to feel safe.
Here’s the heart shift: love should be obvious when they win and when they wobble. Skills can improve; worth is not up for debate.
If perfectionism has been running the house (in them or you), this line from Rudá Iandê hit me between the eyes: “When we let go of the need to be perfect, we free ourselves to live fully—embracing the mess, complexity, and richness of a life that’s delightfully real.”
I’ve mentioned this before, but I keep returning to his new book, Laughing in the Face of Chaos. Rudá has a way of reminding me that authenticity beats performance every time. The book inspired me to ease up on my own standards at home: fewer “shoulds,” more real connection.
If perfection keeps getting between you and your kids, that chapter alone is worth your time.
Practical swaps:
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Praise effort and character, not just outcomes: “You stuck with that tough chapter,” “I noticed how kind you were to your friend.”
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Make room for average days. Not every test, season, or recital needs a silver lining or a “next time” plan.
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Say it plainly: “There’s nothing you could do to make me love you more—or less.”
8) Repair quickly and often
Every relationship has ruptures. The difference in close families is repair. As I covered in a previous post, apologies are a superpower. They also model humility, which invites kids to bring you their messy, half-finished selves.
A simple repair script:
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Name the impact: “I raised my voice and that was scary.”
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Own it without excuses: “I was wrong.”
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Apologize: “I’m sorry.”
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Make it right: “Want to try that conversation again now, or after dinner?”
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Do different next time: “I’ll take a breath before I respond.”
Repairs work best when they’re frequent and un-dramatic. Think of them as regular maintenance, not grand gestures.
Final thoughts
If you’ve noticed yourself in a few of these habits, welcome to the club. We all pick up patterns that worked for us once—maybe they were how our own parents coped—and then we keep using them long after they stop serving the relationship.
That’s not failure; that’s a cue to evolve.
So here’s your tiny experiment for this week on ArtFul parent: pick one behavior to retire and one small replacement to try.
Maybe you’ll pause before offering advice, or knock and wait, or end the day with a five-minute “tell me something good or something hard.”
Watch what happens when your child realizes you’re not trying to win, fix, or pressure—you’re simply trying to know them.
You can’t force closeness. But you can make your presence feel like a soft place to land. Which habit are you ready to say goodbye to first?
