Care and Feeding is Slate’s parenting advice column. Have a question for Care and Feeding? Submit it here.
Dear Care and Feeding,
I’m a single, childless aunt to four wonderful kids. I love those kids like crazy, but they’re the only children I’m ever around; I don’t have a great handle on what’s normal or not, and I wouldn’t say I’m particularly “good” with kids. I live across the country from them, and see them all twice a year.
My 7-year-old niece is named after me, and I do feel some pressure for us to have a “special” relationship. The problem is, I don’t think she likes me—at all. And in all honesty, I don’t really like her either. Even as an infant, I’ve gotten “and who are YOU?” vibes from her. I’ve always chalked it up to her being a kid, not seeing me that frequently, and the fact that my sister does not force her kids to hide their feelings (the way she and I were raised). I have never betrayed my feelings about her to my sister, but it’s hard when my sister asks me how “sweet” I think this child is. In all honesty, I’ve always felt she was a bit of a brat.
On a recent family vacation, however, things reached a new low. While I was brushing her hair, my niece told me she wanted to strangle me with her hair tie. Having reached a point of exhaustion with her, I put down the brush and said “I’m done, I’m not going to be spoken to that way.” As I walked away, she said loudly, “That’s my problem solved!” I was absolutely shocked. I left the vacation feeling absolutely done trying with this kid.
I know I am particularly sensitive—to words, to tone of voice, to unkind facial expressions. I also know that I’m the adult here, and clearly have a lot to work on if I’m constantly so triggered by a child. Also, the kid is only SEVEN! Maybe this is normal behavior for a 7-year-old? What is your advice here? Is it possible I’m right, she’s just a little brat, and I can quit trying to foster a closeness between us that isn’t there? Or am I a horrible, overly-sensitive adult that shouldn’t be so quick to write off a child?
—Bewildered Resentful Aunt
Dear Bewildered Aunt,
I am confident that your niece wasn’t silently judging you when she was a babe in arms; at most, she was probably thinking “this isn’t my parent” and “can she lactate, though?” I don’t know what she has said or done since infancy that has given you the impression she doesn’t like you—or whether that’s specific to you, for that matter, and not a general #notimpressed thing she has going on no matter whose company she’s in. But that’s not to say that this is all in your head. She really might not like you! She might be picking up on your apparent dislike for her? And even if neither of those things are true, kids are often just really blunt, which can be funny at times and maddening at others.
I probably would have taken the hair tie comment as a joke, if a somewhat obnoxious one. The follow-up remark (“That’s my problem solved”) was definitely snottier, but by then she was also reacting to you getting mad. Without knowing more about your history or interactions, I can’t say whether you’re right about her being a total brat or not. But it’s hard for me to endorse the idea of a 7-year-old kid being “just” anything—”just a little brat”; “just a monster”; “just an angel,” for that matter. We are all, children included, a little more complicated than that.
Your niece has bratty moments, a super common thing, and it’s ok for you to be annoyed by those. If you have genuine concerns about her behavior or how she treats you, you can raise them with your sister. You also don’t have to put pressure on yourself to feel especially close to your namesake. But you should recognize that occasional behaviors don’t completely define your niece, and that she’s still learning and growing. You might end up having a very different relationship when she’s older, and even if not, I think it’s a little harsh to write her off as an irredeemable brat at age 7.
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Dear Care and Feeding,
I have three adult children, and I don’t know what to do about my youngest, Rita. My husband and I were educators, so we had high expectations. Our first two children excelled academically on their own. They transferred from public to private school and attended the Ivy Leagues for undergraduate and graduate school. Rita did not, and she stayed in public school for K-12, college, and graduate school.
My husband and I used a rewards system. Anytime my kids wanted something, we required a minimum 3.5 GPA. That’s how my other two kids got private school, trips abroad, tutors, sports camps, a new bicycle, etc. (Rita didn’t, specifically a tutor, because she wouldn’t meet our requirements. My husband said Rita will use any special accommodation to avoid schoolwork.) Those opportunities propelled my first two kids to marry into wealthy families and obtain lucrative jobs.
Rita did well until fourth grade. I wondered if a learning disability was present because she tried but constantly failed. My husband, her teachers, and our doctor said she was lazy and unmotivated. My therapist, who saw her too, said girls couldn’t get ADHD. My husband insisted on keeping the same rewards system for Rita, especially when she begged us to stop the bullying at school. He felt that bullying would be the ultimate motivation for her to improve, but she didn’t.
Fast-forward: Soon after Rita’s 50th birthday, she was diagnosed with ADHD. My husband and other kids don’t believe it. I’m skeptical. Rita said we punished her for behaviors she couldn’t help, and the only reason her siblings did well is because we rewarded them for being neurotypical. She says we never truly helped her. We tried to help her, but ultimately Rita was solely responsible for her achievements, just like my other two kids.
Rita’s relationship with us was already distant, and now it’s nearly non-existent. She won’t talk to her siblings. She says she should get a bigger share of her inheritance because we gave her siblings a lot of money but not her. (Although that’s true, I don’t want to punish the other two.) How can I get Rita to understand we did the best we could? I can’t change the past, and I miss my grandkids.
—We Didn’t Know!
Dear We Didn’t Know,
It never ceases to amaze me how many people seem to view it as intrinsically beneath them to admit they made a mistake and apologize to their children.
Your choices were in fact miles short of “the best you could do.” You might not have known about Rita’s ADHD when she was growing up. It’s not your fault you were given outdated, mistaken information about how girls can’t have ADHD. But you knew that your child was trying—your own words, from your letter—and still struggling. And instead of trying to see her strengths and abilities, trying to figure out how to help her, you and your husband blamed her, treated her worse than her siblings, left her at the mercy of bullies, and denied her opportunities for fun and enrichment—even a tutor who might have been able to help her study more effectively and raise the grades you cared so much about!—because you decided she was a lazy failure. I can’t imagine the damage that must have done to not only her trust in you, but also her self-esteem.
Now you’re questioning the diagnosis your daughter has received, presumably by someone qualified to give it. (It’s as if you don’t want her to have the “excuse” of a disability, though in your letter you admit that you once wondered whether she had one!) You and your husband are refusing to admit that you made serious and harmful mistakes while raising her, and are still holding what you perceive to be her “failures” against her—like not going to an Ivy League school (I’m begging you to get over yourselves) or marrying rich (marrying rich is not an accomplishment!). But it sounds as though Rita has done quite well for herself despite your appalling lack of compassion and self-awareness. She graduated from high school and went to college and grad school. She has a family of her own now. She was curious and cared enough about herself to pursue an evaluation which has yielded new and important information about how her brain works. And while you might not see her confrontation with you in a positive light, I think it points to both an admirable willingness to stand up for herself and a desire to give you one last chance. Think about it: She could have just peaced out without ever telling you why. Instead, she’s giving you an opportunity to hear why she’s angry, understand something important about her, take responsibility for your actions, and apologize.
As for the money: If Rita is in need of financial support right now, offer it; it’s the least you can do. I might put a pin in the inheritance discussion for now—I wouldn’t say no outright to what Rita is asking, because I could see a scenario in which she might really need or deserve more of the support and resources you denied her when she was a child. But it might make sense to focus on trying to address the rifts you’ve caused in your relationship (assuming that is even possible) before you dig into the inheritance question. Until you actually choose to respect and empathize with and make amends to your daughter, I don’t know how you’re going to have an honest, productive conversation about anything.
Your parenting choices have caused your daughter decades of pain. And still, you might have one last chance to be honest about your failures, show her that you want a real relationship with her, and build something new. If you pass on that opportunity because you just can’t admit you were wrong—or because you and your husband want to persist in judging your daughter for things that weren’t and aren’t her fault—I suppose that’s your choice. Just don’t be surprised if you then find yourselves fully cut off from her and your grandchildren.
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Dear Care and Feeding,
I need a script for explaining to our preschool-aged son why he will be going to a new school this fall, while his friends are staying at the daycare he’s been at since he was a baby. The real reasons: The preschool program is enriching and highly recommended, while the daycare’s administration has been a dumpster fire. But I don’t think that our son will grasp these nuances, and I also don’t want to dump on the daycare, since he is in the phase of repeating everything we say (“Daddy says I’m going to a better school!”). My wife suggested just telling him he’s ready for a school for big kids, but, like I said, his daycare friends are his age, and my son will wonder why they’re not coming, too. This seems like a pretty basic rite of passage and I don’t know why we can’t figure out the words.
—Movin’ On Up
Dear Movin’ On Up,
Maybe you’re overthinking this a little, or your understandable anxiety about this transition has you focused on this particular discussion with your son. Your son might have or express some feelings about leaving his current daycare and friends, and that’s ok. Listen to him, acknowledge those feelings, and don’t try to talk him out of them. If he asks about why his friends aren’t coming, all you have to say is that it’s normal for friends to attend different schools. He’ll make new friends at his new school, and you’ll try to help him stay in touch with his closest daycare friends.
I don’t think any part of the conversation needs to be about comparing the negatives of his daycare to the positives of the preschool. Avoid descriptors like “big kid” and “better,” and just say that you think this new school will be a great place for him to learn and you’re excited for him to go. What’s enriching about the preschool? Are there particular programs you think he’ll really enjoy—music or languages or sports? Talk about those things, and ask what he’s excited about. It’s going to be fine.
Dear Care and Feeding,
I have some in-laws who live close by and who we see frequently whose entire lives revolve around their pets. They have very few friends or outside hobbies or interests. This wouldn’t matter much to me, except that the pets are all they talk about when we get together. I don’t have pets and these conversations are painfully boring. They also ask very few questions about me, which gives me fewer opportunities to turn the conversation in a different direction. This is making me dread get-togethers with them. Should I just let it be and suffer, or is there a way to bring up in a tactful way that I can only handle so much talk about pets?
—Bored in Memphis
Dear Bored,
This is kind of funny to me, only because many of my friends regularly and sincerely ask about my dog’s wellbeing, and I have an entire group chat (“to the dogs”) focused on, well, you can guess. But I do see why you’d want to venture into other topics of conversation, and I don’t think you’d be out of line to gently say, “Hey, can we talk about something else? Tell me about [for example] your summer plans!” if it’s truly been hours and hours of nonstop pet talk. You also don’t have to wait for your relatives to ask you questions—you can volunteer interesting news, ask them questions, and try to steer the discussion somewhere else. If you really want to liven things up, start a conversation about politics. Boredom will start to sound really good again.
—Nicole
More Advice From Slate
My wife and I divorced when my daughter was 6 years old and I was 43. I love my daughter to death, marveling as she grew up, basking in her love, and returning in kind. I still love her so much, but there is something wrong in our relationship. She has no difficulty in ignoring my texts to her, never mind my calls. It hurts me very much when she blows me off. She’ll say, “I never respond to texts from anyone,” but will immediately respond to anybody’s texts during those infrequent times we are together. I’ve tried to take the approach that kids can be like this at her age, but I’m having serious doubts and am beginning to think there is something seriously wrong. Please help!
