I’ll confess something that might sound ungrateful: I absolutely adore my three kids, Sarah, Michael, and Emma, but there are certain habits they’ve picked up that make me scratch my head.

After raising them through scraped knees, teenage heartbreak, and college applications, you’d think I’d have them all figured out. But no, my millennial children continue to baffle me with behaviors that seem to be hardwired into their generation.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m proud of who they’ve become. They’re kind, successful, and they’ve given me five wonderful grandchildren who I get to spoil with Sunday pancakes every week.

But sometimes, during our family gatherings or when we’re catching up over the phone, I find myself biting my tongue about certain things they do.

Maybe you can relate? If you’ve got millennial kids of your own, you might recognize some of these patterns.

Let’s dive into the five things I wish they’d reconsider.

1) Treating every minor inconvenience like a major crisis

Last month, Sarah called me in what sounded like genuine distress. My heart immediately started racing, thinking something terrible had happened to one of the grandkids.

Turns out, her favorite coffee shop had discontinued her go-to oat milk brand. She spent twenty minutes explaining how this “completely derailed” her morning routine.

Look, I get it. We all have our preferences. My wife and I have our standing Wednesday coffee date at the same local café, and yes, I’d be mildly annoyed if they changed their blend. But there’s a difference between disappointment and devastation.

When I was their age, we dealt with actual inconveniences without the drama. The car broke down? You figured it out. The store was out of something? You bought something else. We didn’t need to process every small setback like it was a personal attack from the universe. Life throws curveballs, and not all of them deserve a full emotional response.

What concerns me is how this tendency affects their resilience. If changing coffee brands causes genuine distress, how will they handle the real challenges life inevitably brings?

2) Documenting everything instead of experiencing it

We had a beautiful family reunion last summer at the lake house. The sunset was spectacular, painting the sky in oranges and purples I hadn’t seen in years.

I turned to share the moment with Emma, only to find her viewing it through her phone screen, adjusting filters for the perfect Instagram shot.

“Did you actually see the sunset?” I wanted to ask. But I already knew the answer. She saw a digital version, cropped and enhanced, ready for public consumption.

This constant documentation exhausts me. Every family meal needs to be photographed before anyone can eat. Every outing with the grandchildren becomes a photo shoot.

My morning walks with Lottie, my golden retriever, are sacred partly because they’re undocumented. Just me, the dog, and the quiet morning air at 6:30 AM. No cameras, no sharing, just being present.

I understand wanting to preserve memories. Heck, I’ve got boxes of old photos in the attic. But there’s something different about this compulsive need to broadcast every moment.

When everything is documented, what becomes actually special? When you’re busy framing the perfect shot, what are you missing in peripheral vision?

3) Constantly seeking validation through texts and calls

My son texts me approximately twelve times before making any significant decision. Should he accept a job offer? What about this apartment? Is this a good school district for his kids?

I love that he values my opinion, but sometimes I wonder when he started doubting his own judgment so thoroughly.

When I was raising them, we made decisions and lived with the consequences. Sure, I’d occasionally call my father for advice on major things, but not for every daily choice. The constant need for reassurance and validation seems to have replaced their trust in their own instincts.

What really gets me is the group texts. Emma will send the same question to me, her mother, her siblings, and apparently half her friend group, then spend hours tallying opinions like she’s conducting a scientific poll. By the time she makes a decision, she’s often more confused than when she started.

I want to tell them: trust yourself. You’re smart, capable adults. You don’t need a committee to approve your dinner plans or your vacation destination. Some of the best decisions I’ve made in life were the ones I made quietly, without seeking anyone’s approval.

4) Overthinking and overanalyzing everything

Listen, I’m all for self-reflection. Heaven knows I’ve done my share of thinking about life’s meaning, especially after retirement.

But this generation seems to pathologize every normal human emotion. Feeling sad? Must be depression. Feeling nervous? Anxiety disorder. Feeling uninspired? Existential crisis.

Sometimes you just have an off day. Sometimes a meeting is uncomfortable because meetings are inherently awkward. Not everything requires deep psychological excavation. This constant analysis paralysis prevents them from simply moving forward and letting things go.

5) Making everything political or a moral stance

Sometimes it feels like I can’t buy coffee, choose a restaurant, or mention a movie without one of my kids launching into a dissertation about the company’s ethical practices, their carbon footprint, or their position on various social issues. 

It’s exhausting. Sometimes coffee is just coffee. Sometimes a burger is just a burger. Not every consumer choice needs to be a statement about your values and beliefs.

Don’t misunderstand me, I believe in having principles. I volunteer at the literacy center, I’ve learned Spanish at 61 to better communicate with my son-in-law’s family, and I try to be a good citizen. But I don’t need my every purchase to align with a manifesto. This moral weight they attach to every small decision must be incredibly heavy to carry around.

What happened to simply enjoying things? When did everything become so complicated? I watch my grandchildren, still innocent of these complexities, and they just enjoy their Sunday pancakes without wondering about the ethical implications of maple syrup production. There’s something to be said for that simplicity.

Parting thoughts

Look, I know every generation thinks the younger one is doing it wrong. My parents certainly had their opinions about my choices.

But these patterns I see in my millennial children seem to make their lives unnecessarily complex and stressful. They’re so busy analyzing, documenting, and validating that I wonder if they ever just… exist.

My advice? Put down the phone. Make a decision without polling the room. Accept that sometimes things are just uncomfortable without deeper meaning.  And for heaven’s sake, watch the sunset with your actual eyes.

Will they listen? Probably not. But that’s okay too. Every generation has to learn their own lessons in their own way. I’ll keep making Sunday pancakes, and loving my kids through all their quirks. Even the ones that make me shake my head.

After all, isn’t that what parenting really is? Loving them through the choices you don’t quite understand?