I have never had the gift of scintillating dinner conversation with my children.

“What happened at school today?”

“Nothing.”

My mother-in-law used to joke that she called her son, my husband, the “little neck clam” because he also had nothing to say about his life as a child.

They clearly inherited this tendency from his side of the family.

Instead, I have had to rely on the beneficence of friends with children to let me know what is happening in my own children’s lives. “Hey, congratulations on that music award Daniel won.” What?

One neighbor in particular whose daughter was the same age as our middle child would call to warn of science projects, fundraisers, tryouts and scholarship deadlines. But she only had one child and I was clueless without her help for my other two.

I have tried various approaches: “What was the best thing that happened at school today?” “Nothing.”

“Did anything bad happen at school today?” “No.”

“How was practice?” “OK.”

My husband sought levity. “Did anyone fall off a chair?” At least that elicited a raised eyebrow before the head dropped and the response came. “No.”

Then my kids went off to college and entered a black hole without any sources of illumination. I read the website and subscribed to the school paper – the upshot being that I seemed to know more about their schools than they did, but at least it gave me a focal point for our periodic phone conversations.

Relationships have changed tremendously since my eldest trotted off to college 10 years ago. Texting was in its infancy and Facebook was perhaps a gleam in its founder’s eye, but was a long way from the 400 million users we know today. Back in the day, what happened at college stayed at college.

Now, we have access to “TMI” as the text abbreviation goes. While as a college parent I don’t want to know about keg parties or beer pong or any of the other inappropriate stuff that makes its way to Facebook. I lecture them on appropriate use and then stay away from their pages.

I do, however, want an entree to coursework, career aspirations and goal setting. I want to see grades and pay bills (not really!). And I want to have an occasional conversation that consists of more than grunts and head nods. I assume you feel the same way.

Now that your sons and daughters are heading home for nearly four months of homemade meals, a limitless pantry of food and free laundry supplies, it is time to plot your communication strategy.

No expert myself, I have nonetheless come up with four useful pointers to help communicate with the college crowd: get access to their records; be prepared to talk when they make an overture; lower the volume on your nagging; and, forge common ground. It really is that simple.

The bill paying aspect is easy – my son and daughter gladly handed over a PIN that accessed their grades and financial records in exchange for Mom writing the check. The FERPA policy that protects your son or daughter’s right to policy can be signed and faxed to our Registrar. That gives you the right to access your student’s financial and academic records. Given the choice of signing or paying, my children both chose the former.

But quality conversations? Those were, and still are, rare. Yet, as parents, we need to seize the opportunities for meaningful discussion when they arise – on their terms, not ours. All my prodding and poking gets me nowhere, but every now and then one of our three will wander in our bedroom just as we are turning out the lights and be in the mood to talk. As inconvenient as it may be, we stifle our yawns and settle in for a chat. Being there for them when they are ready to talk is huge. Invite them to dinner, one-on-one, or drive them places. And then be quiet. All that silence usually gets them talking.

I also tried to lower the volume on my nagging. I gave up the rants about dirty rooms and laundry piles because it occurred to me that they couldn’t hear the difference between my conversational tones and my nagging voice. It all sounded like “Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah…”

I learned about punk music in order to forge common ground with my son. My sister became a Met fan when her oldest became obsessed with baseball and a theater buff when her younger boy started acting. Meet them where they are. Talking about guitar riffs, or on-base percentages, or auditions might open doors to meaningful talk about career aspirations.

Finally, hold your tongue. Only say half of what you want to say and hold the other half for another day. I’ve come to the conclusion that they really do want our advice, it’s just so boring for them when we give it.

Enjoy them this summer.

By Tracy Gottlieb, Ph.D.