My husband has four nieces and nephews between the ages of 2 and 10. They are unruly, unintelligent and uninteresting compared to other children we know. We don’t think their parents do a good job with them, and all the grandparents pitching in from the sidelines only leads to confusion and worse behavior. We keep to ourselves at family events and count the minutes until we can leave. Recently, one of the grandparents called to scold us for our bad attitude toward the children and suggested we not attend future events if we can’t accept them as they are. But isn’t it unfair to ask us to change without asking the same of the children or their parents?
ANNOYED AUNT
Are you seriously asking for the right to behave as a 2-year-old? What strikes me about your letter, though, is your apparent inability to distinguish among the children. They sound like one nasty blob with four sticky heads. But that’s never the way it is with actual people (including tiny, underage ones).
Now, I don’t doubt these kids are rambunctious at family events. They’re children! They’re probably also not used to so much concentrated adult attention. Next time, try peeling one away from the pack and spending some time with her or him. Ask about favorite TV shows or books. Notice quirks.
When you begin to see the children individually, I expect you will develop more nuanced views about them. Short answer: Yes, adults must try harder to be nice than children. For extra credit, read Ann Patchett’s novel “The Dutch House,” a story about ordinary children who are fascinating thanks to the careful attention the author pays them.
Paying the Friendship Tax
I was invited to a friend’s birthday dinner. We’re not close, but we see each other in group settings. The restaurant she chose is a notoriously expensive sushi place. But we’re all in our early 20s. I think it’s unreasonable for her to expect us to shell out so much for her birthday. (Plus, we don’t let honorees pay for their meals, so we’d incur even more expense.) Is it O.K. to bail on this party? I don’t want to make up an excuse, but I don’t want to tell her I’m not coming because of money either. Help!
ANONYMOUS
Let me get this straight: You don’t want to tell the truth, and you don’t want to lie. (Are you under the impression that I have magical powers?) It is never wrong to say: “Thanks for inviting me! But I’m on a budget and can’t afford to come.”
Here, your reluctance to speak honestly allows the birthday girl to persist in her mistaken belief that her friends can (or want to) spend upward of $100 on sushi in her honor. How will she learn the truth if you don’t say something?
This Is How It Ends?
I made a wonderful friend in high school. She was a year older than me and became my mentor through college. We maintained our friendship for 45 years. But three years ago, she sent me a letter saying I was not doing my part to be a good friend. She expressly left the next steps up to me. So, I shredded the letter and haven’t spoken to her since. I assumed she was telling me she no longer wanted to be friends. Was I wrong?
ANONYMOUS
Ladies and gentlemen, I present Exhibit A in support of not sending dramatic letters to friends. Written communications often seem more severe than we mean them to be. Most also lack the warmth we hear in friends’ voices when they talk to us.
My hunch, Anonymous, is that your pal had a gripe. But rather than discuss it with you specifically, she wrote a stern letter demanding you fix a vague problem. Take the high road: Call her up, invite her to lunch and ask what the problem is. Decades-long friendships are too rare to be tossed aside over silly letters.
Zip It
One morning at the blood bank where I work, I saw the chief pathologist walking toward me and, like a beacon, his bright pink shirt protruded from the open zipper of his trousers. Despite my prayers, he stopped to talk to me. I didn’t break eye contact with him. Finally, he went to his office. Sweet relief! But later, he returned to ask if I’d noticed that his zipper was down. I said no. Should I have told him about the zipper initially?
RITA
It seems likely from your charming letter, Rita, that mentioning the doctor’s open fly would have caused you anxiety. And since he is a pathologist and not a therapist, you were quite right to keep mum. You respected your comfort level.
Personally, I would have felt free to ask if his pink shirt tail was a new take on the pocket square. And in my experience, the sooner easy fashion fixes are implemented, the better for everyone. But we each get to consider the stakes (for us) in talking about the delicate subject of other people’s bodies, too.
For help with your awkward situation, send a question to SocialQ@nytimes.com, to Philip Galanes on Facebook or @SocialQPhilip on Twitter.
