Every Sunday at 4 PM, my phone rings. It’s become as predictable as my morning coffee, and just as essential to my week. My older son calls from his kitchen while prepping dinner, kids chattering in the background, and we talk for about twenty minutes. Sometimes longer, sometimes shorter, but always meaningful.
It wasn’t always this way. There was a time when our calls felt forced, filled with awkward silences and surface-level updates about the weather. I’d hang up feeling disconnected, wondering when exactly we’d gone from those deep father-son talks to these stilted exchanges that felt more like checking boxes than actually connecting.
The turning point came about five years ago when my younger son, in a moment of raw honesty, told me something that stung: “Dad, every time I share something with you, it turns into a lecture. I feel like I’m constantly being criticized.” Ouch. But he was right. I’d been so focused on imparting wisdom that I’d forgotten how to just listen and engage.
Since then, I’ve discovered the secret sauce to keeping my now thirty-something sons actually interested in our conversations. And before you ask, no, it’s not about having the latest tech gadgets or understanding their work jargon. It’s about finding topics that create genuine dialogue rather than monologues.
1. Their current challenges (without the unsolicited advice)
This one took me the longest to master. When my son mentions he’s struggling with his boss or dealing with a difficult neighbor, my instinct screams to jump in with solutions. After all, I’ve got six decades of experience, right?
Wrong approach.
What I’ve learned is to ask questions instead. “How are you feeling about that?” or “What options are you considering?” These simple questions open doors rather than slam them shut. Last week, my older son spent fifteen minutes talking about a work project that was keeping him up at night. I bit my tongue at least three times when I wanted to tell him what I’d do. Instead, I asked him what his gut was telling him. By the end of our call, he’d talked himself through to a solution, and I got credit for being helpful without saying a word of advice.
As psychologist Carl Rogers once said, “When someone really hears you without passing judgment on you, without trying to take responsibility for you, without trying to mold you, it feels damn good.”
2. The grandkids’ latest adventures
This is the golden ticket of conversation topics. My four grandchildren, ranging from three to eleven, provide endless material. But here’s the trick: don’t just ask generic questions like “How are the kids?” Instead, get specific.
I keep mental notes about what each grandchild is into. The oldest just started middle school, so I ask about specific teachers or which lunch table dynamics are playing out. My youngest grandchild is obsessed with dinosaurs, so I’ll mention a documentary I saw or ask if they’ve learned any new dinosaur names.
These conversations often lead to funny stories about parenting mishaps or proud moments my sons want to share. It gives them a chance to be the expert, telling me about the realities of modern parenting, from managing screen time to navigating food allergies at birthday parties.
3. Shared memories that make us both laugh
Remember that time you tried to teach them to drive? Or when the family camping trip went hilariously wrong? These shared memories are conversation gold. They remind us of our connection beyond the current parent-adult child dynamic.
Just last Sunday, I brought up the time we got lost on a hiking trail when my sons were teenagers. We ended up eating gas station hot dogs for dinner at 10 PM, exhausted and covered in mud. My son added details I’d forgotten, and we both laughed until our stomachs hurt. It shifted the entire energy of our conversation.
4. Their hobbies and interests (especially the ones you don’t share)
My younger son is into craft beer brewing. Do I understand the difference between an IPA and a stout? Barely. Do I ask him about his latest batch anyway? Absolutely.
Showing genuine curiosity about their interests, even when they’re foreign to you, sends a powerful message: I care about what makes you happy. It’s not about becoming an expert in their hobbies. It’s about being interested in their enthusiasm.
5. Current events through their lens
Instead of lecturing about politics or the economy (trust me, I’ve learned that lesson), I ask for their perspectives. “What do you think about…” or “How is this affecting your generation?” These questions lead to fascinating discussions where I actually learn something.
My sons often see angles I hadn’t considered. Their generation faces different challenges with housing costs, work-life balance, and technology than I did. Listening to their viewpoints helps me understand their world better, and they appreciate being heard as adults with valid opinions.
6. Plans and dreams (theirs, not yours for them)
This is where the magic happens. When you ask adult children about their hopes for the next year or five years, without inserting your own agenda, beautiful conversations unfold.
Maybe they’re thinking about a career change, planning a house renovation, or dreaming about a family vacation. These topics let them share their excitement and concerns. And here’s the key: resist the urge to evaluate their plans. Just be curious and supportive.
7. Questions about your own life
This might surprise you, but sometimes flipping the script works wonders. Ask your adult children for their advice or opinions. “I’m thinking about taking up golf. Think I’m too old?” or “Your mom and I are considering downsizing. What do you think?”
It shows them you value their input and see them as equals. Plus, they often have insights we might miss. My son recently helped me understand why my new phone was acting up, and his patient explanation made him feel useful and appreciated.
Closing thoughts
If you’re a regular reader, you may remember I wrote about the importance of adapting our relationships as our children grow. Well, these Sunday calls are where that rubber meets the road.
The truth is, I have different relationships with each of my sons. One calls weekly like clockwork, the other prefers occasional texts with random memes that make us both chuckle. And you know what? Both are perfect in their own way.
The art of the Sunday call isn’t about having the perfect conversation every time. It’s about showing up, being genuinely interested, and remembering that your adult children are exactly that: adults with their own wisdom, experiences, and stories worth hearing.
So here’s my question for you: what would happen if you approached your next call with curiosity instead of agenda?
