I have one child, a seven-year-old daughter, with my wife of 10 years. I love both the women in my life very, very much. I want to be part of everything they do, as a caring husband, an equal partner, and an involved parent. Unfortunately, my daughter doesn’t like to include me in many of her activities. My wife and I have spoken about the situation, but we just don’t know what to do.

For example, I’ll come home from work, and they’ll be on the floor playing with her Polly Pockets. I’ll sit down and want to play, but my daughter will cry and tell me to go away. We’ll try to ask her about it, but she just cries harder until I walk away. At that point, my wife and I will discuss, and then I’ll help her out by getting dinner ready, or pouring my daughter’s bath, or throwing in some laundry – whatever my wife suggests, or we figure out together.

But this is difficult for me, and for my wife. How do we handle this and what exactly is going on?

Ousted Dad

As upsetting as this is, at seven, she may just be deeply attached to mom at this moment, which is normal.

She may also simply want control over her own imaginative world of play. She may be protective of her dolls, and/or her space. Also, at her age, her strong emotional reaction, of screaming and crying, isn’t necessarily equitable to the intensity of her feelings. Instead of seemingly barging in on her playtime, say hello, give her and your wife a kiss, go change, and then ask if you can join. If she says no, walk away without emotion. She needs to feel that her boundaries matter, and that you’re not withdrawing based on her rejection.

It may be that this activity is mom-specific, so try to find something – anything! – that your daughter will do with both of you, and something she’ll agree to do with just you. It’s important for your bond to have something that’s just daddy-daughter.

If you’re still concerned, it may behoove you and your wife to speak with a therapist, to try to get to the bottom of this behaviour. They’ll ask the probing questions that will hopefully reveal what you two can’t see on your own.

My older brother has addiction issues. At first, it was marijuana, then it was alcohol, and now it’s even harder drugs. My parents have sent him away at least four times that I can remember. He’s six years older than me, and the first time he went away, he was 12.

I feel as though I’ve grown up most of my life without my older brother around. There are two sisters in between us, and the three of us are very close. When my older brother is away, it’s as though he doesn’t exist. My parents and my sisters never spoke about him when he wasn’t around; and they tiptoe around him when he’s present.

I’m 18 now, and he’s 24 and I don’t know him at all. I feel robbed of my relationship with him, but don’t know how to make any change. What do you suggest?

Big Brother

Addiction is a tough road, and painful for everyone in a caring family. It sounds as though your parents put a lot of effort in to get your brother the help he needed. I would imagine that they were also trying to protect you and your sisters.

You would benefit from talking to a therapist, one who specializes in addiction. And I would consider a group session with your parents and sisters to discuss, as a family, how best to support each other.

FEEDBACK Regarding ungrateful teen (July 2):

Reader – “All children should be taught to be grateful and say thank you at a young age. If she doesn’t say thank you, stop buying her stuff, even if you are the parent. She will quickly learn to show gratitude. I used to buy my godchild gifts, and he would not thank me, so I stopped buying him gifts.”

Reader #2 – “I had a good chuckle over the ungrateful teen and her thankless daughter. I immediately thought of my grandma. I don't know if it would have an impact, but my grandma, who was a huge believer in Emily Post, had the perfect answer. When one of us, her grandchildren, or anyone else in the family forgot to say thank you, she'd look at us and say, ‘you're welcome!’

“And yes, with us, and my utterly clueless father, it worked like a charm!”

Remembering Grandma