Care and Feeding is Slate’s parenting advice column. Have a question for Care and Feeding? Submit it here.

Dear Care and Feeding,

My parents had a messy relationship my whole life, so I was relieved when they divorced this past January. What was shocking was my dad remarrying as soon as the divorce went through, and who it was he married: one of my former high school classmates, a now-24-year-old woman. She’s younger than I am.

Because I’m close to the rest of my dad’s family, seeing them is unavoidable. When I do, I keep it polite, but I think my dad is gross, and I think she’s in it mostly for the financial stability he provides. My husband, of course, knows how I feel. Recently, he taught our toddler that my dad and his wife are to be called “Grandpa” and “Grandma.” When she says “Grandma” to my dad’s young wife, it gets a big reaction from other relatives, and even more from the wife. So my daughter is really, really into it, as little kids will be when something they say gets them attention.

My dad and his wife have asked me to get her to stop calling her “Grandma.” But I’m not interested in trying to do that. First of all, retraining a toddler is like retraining a donkey, and I’d rather save my energy for when it’s really important to do it. I should add that I carefully don’t call my dad’s wife my “stepmom” because when they announced the marriage, she made a point of saying she didn’t want to be called that. Is it OK to just let this Grandma thing go? I assume our daughter will get tired of it eventually.

—A Grandma by Any Other Name

Dear Name,

I’m sorry your father has disappointed you so profoundly. And I get that your husband was probably trying to do something nice for you—i.e., taking a potshot at the new wife on your behalf. But it was pretty juvenile of him, and I think your unwillingness to fix this is (understandably!) petty. That doesn’t mean I think you have to fix it or even that I think your husband should try to (I agree with you: It would be hard to do so, though if that task is on anyone, it should definitely be on him). I do think it’s OK to let this go and leave it to work itself out. You can tell Dad and Young Bride exactly what you told me re: “retraining” a toddler.

However, I do think it would be a good idea for you to take ownership of whatever pleasure you’re taking in watching Dad and YB squirm. Also, I don’t share your assumption that this 24-year-old is in this marriage for the financial stability (who knows? Love is weird), and I personally would reserve my wrath for your dad. But I would also do my best to shake it off as time passes. He’s your dad: He’s going to be in your life for a long time. And if these two stay married—if he doesn’t leave her for a younger model once she hits middle age, or if Dad’s second marriage doesn’t eventually become as “messy” as his first—you may even grow accustomed to their relationship and forgive them both. (Who knows? Life itself is weird.)

Meanwhile, if you feel like it, next time the happy couple asks you to get your daughter to lay off the Grandma bit, in addition to telling them how impossible you believe that would be, you can also note that 1) it’s an honor to be called Grandma, 2) by virtue of their marriage, she is a step-grandma, and 3) if “Grandma” makes her (and Grandpa) uncomfortable, she can always choose a more palatable moniker—Mimi or Gigi or any of the other nouveau-grandmother terms that are currently in fashion—and try herself to redirect her step-granddaughter toward it.

Dear Care and Feeding,

My son is a senior in high school and is starting to apply to colleges. I always told myself that I wanted to be able to put him through his dream school, whatever that turned out to be. His dream school is in the Ivy League, which would set him on a great path, and is where both my husband and I went, with full tuition paid by scholarships and parents. But now that I am looking at the price tag—close to $100,000/year—I am not so sure, especially since he is also interested in an in-state public university (a solid school!) that would cost a fourth of that.

My husband and I make good money, and we could stretch and make the dream school work. But it would probably put off my retirement by three to five years. (And we still have a younger child whom we also want to send to college, and we may face the same dilemma down the line.)

I don’t want to limit my children’s options! But … I also don’t want to get in over my head financially. Would it be OK to encourage my son to go to the in-state school? Or do I need to stay neutral? I’ve always thought the job of every generation was to give our children better/more than what we had ourselves, not less. I hate the thought that I’m giving him fewer choices than I had.

—I Got It, Why Shouldn’t He?

Dear Got It,

If by “stay neutral,” you mean “not micromanaging his college application process,” yes, I think that’s the right thing to do. Telling him he cannot apply to his Ivy League dream school seems mean, especially as I imagine you’ve led him to believe up to now that you’d support him doing so. Besides, I can’t help wondering what role the fact that you and his father are alumni of that institution has played in this being his dream. Haven’t you waxed poetic about it for the last 17 or 18 years?

But I also think you need to talk to your kid about life’s realities. First, he needs to know he is not assured of admission to any of the colleges to which he applies. Being a double legacy for sure gives him a (big) leg up—and I think you should be honest with him about that, too—but it doesn’t guarantee anything. (I hope he has a longer list of colleges than just these two.) Second reality: A terrific education that sets a person on “a good path” can be had at a great many institutions (unless by “good path” you mean only “make the most money,” because it is absolutely true that Ivy League grads tend to earn more). Third reality: What he believes at 18 to be his “dream school” is not a great predictor of what college will be the best choice for him. (Lots of kids have dream schools—influenced by parents, friends, movies, social media, a casual remark by a teacher they look up to, etc.—and realize later that they’re glad they didn’t get in, that the experience they had elsewhere was exactly what they needed.) And fourth (but not least): Be straight with him about money! If you believe you might not be able to comfortably afford to send him to the Ivy from which you graduated—again, assuming he gets in there—tell him that. (If it doesn’t feel good or right to consider admitting to him that you can afford it, but that it would mean you’d have to continue working for three years longer than you plan to, then I think that bad feeling tells you something: Take a good, hard look at that something.)

For now: Tell your son he should apply to any school he’s interested in attending, and that when the yes/no/defer/waitlist decisions come in, and at last it’s his turn to choose where to go to school, cost will be one of many factors. Tell him you’ll talk it through as a family.

Be aware, too, that, depending on what “good money” means to you, your son may still be eligible for some financial aid from private institutions with large endowments (such as Ivies and the so-called “Little Ivies” and a surprising number of other schools as well). While Ivies and other “elite” schools do not offer merit scholarships—because everyone who gets in, by definition, is a merit scholar—they do provide at least some aid to most students who attend. Unless you are filthy rich (like, donate-a-building rich), if you haven’t yet, you should go ahead and fill out FAFSA and the CSS Profile so you’ll know for sure what your “expected family contribution” toward that $100,000 annual bill would be. If you already know that figure—because you’ve done that homework—and that’s how you’ve concluded that you’d have to put off the retirement you’ve been looking forward to, then you’re ahead of the game. Either way, this information should be part of your conversation with your kid when it’s time for him to pick a school, with your input and help, from among those who’ve said yes to him.

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Dear Care and Feeding,

I’m going to be staying with my lovely cousin in a few weeks. He’s a lot of fun, and I love seeing him. He’s also estranged from most of our shared family. This hasn’t been a problem between us in the past, but his mother is dying, and I am now being pressured for information about him and to advocate for a reconciliation.

I have no intention of doing that. I know his reasons for cutting ties, and they are understandable. He’d be hurt that I asked, given what I know. But my reluctance to say yes to this request is making a lot of people angry (and also hurt). I need a script to tell a dying old woman that I’ll be damned if I’m going to hassle her son on her behalf, because he hates her and she deserves it. Thoughts?

—Not Your Huckleberry

Dear Not Your Huckleberry,

Your “script” is short and to the point: I’m sorry. I can’t.

It has the virtue of being true—you can’t, without hurting someone you love; you are sorry, because a member of your family is dying and you’re unable to fulfill her dying wish—and it is endlessly repeatable, if necessary.

“But why can’t you?”

I’m sorry. I just can’t.

“I don’t understand why you can’t!”

I’m sorry.

And so on.

Meanwhile, you can (and I think you should) let your beloved cousin know that his mother is dying. This is information he should have, to do with what he will. You are in a position to give it to him. Offer the information as neutrally as possible: I have something to tell you. I don’t know if it will be of consequence to you or not, but it seems like something you should be aware of. Your mother is dying.

If he responds angrily—Why would you tell me that? Why would I care?—this is a repeatable script too (I’m sorry. I thought you should know).

It seems quite remarkable to me that you’ve pulled off this tightrope walk (for years?) of remaining close enough to your extended family that you are paying visits to an elderly, dying member of it—and staying in contact with, it would seem, everyone—while knowing something awful and unforgivable, a terrible family secret with which your cousin has entrusted you. That you and your cousin have maintained a close, loving relationship under these circumstances is no small feat. That you haven’t felt torn, conflicted, and anxious before now seems extraordinary. (I don’t mean this as criticism! I am genuinely impressed that you have been able to hold empathy as well as, presumably, affection for all concerned.)

I’m afraid that your hope that you can get through this next chapter without anyone being angry with you—and without hurting anyone—is unrealistic. But people being angry with you is not the end of the world. People get angry. And yes, their feelings get hurt. The relationships that matter, that are real, survive such things. (Even relationships that don’t matter much and  aren’t very deep may survive them.)

P.S. I want to both thank you and congratulate you for invoking a phrase I had to look up. It’s one I’d never heard before!

—Michelle

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