Help! A Shrunken Sock Has Thrown My Whole Family Into Turmoil.

Dear Prudence is Slate’s advice column. Submit questions here. (It’s anonymous!)

Dear Prudence,

Last month, I shrunk a pair of socks in the wash and they came out so hilariously small that I actually laughed out loud. I posted them on social media compared my and my husband’s normal size socks along with the caption “Wow, what a change! I’m in tears lmao!” My family thought this was a pregnancy announcement. When I checked the group chat, I had to dash everyone’s hopes and also reach out to my sister who is very sensitive about baby stuff because of her recent miscarriage.

But then I found out I actually am pregnant. I have infrequent periods, so it wasn’t until I started to get symptoms that I realized what was happening, took a test, and went in for an ultrasound. I’m over three months pregnant and starting to show. My husband and I are both excited and nervous, and can’t wait to welcome this little one into our lives. We’re going to be seeing family soon. How do I handle this? I was actually pregnant at the time I posted that, so it will seem like I was doing this for attention. In my and my family’s defense, I’ve always been a bit of a ham. This is something I would have done in the past but I mellowed out after I turned 25 (I’m now over 30). How do I navigate this, especially with my sister?

—Oh Baby

Dear Oh Baby,

This is very funny. It just is. And you need to lean into that. It can be a story that people tell for years to come! But first, your sister: Call her or talk to her in person. There’s no way around her eventually finding out that you’re pregnant, so you need to tell her your news but also ask questions: “How are you doing around baby stuff?” “How can I make this easier on you?” “What can I say to the rest of the family about discussing my pregnancy, or not discussing it during our visit?” “Would it be easier to keep this off the group chat?” It sounds like it’s pretty early, so it would be totally reasonable for you to keep the news to yourself in the immediate future and save her from that whole spectacle. Then reach out to people with your “So you won’t believe this there is a pretty wild development in the shrunken sock saga …” story a little down the line.

Sometimes even Prudence needs a little help. This week’s tricky situation is below. Submit your comments about how to approach the situation here to Jenée, and then look back for the final answer here on Friday.

Dear Prudence,

My mother always encouraged me to follow my interests and not get trapped in what society thinks a woman needs to be (make up, heels, etc). She was my biggest cheerleader when I was getting my master’s degree, but now that I am married, the only topic on hand is when am I giving her grandbabies! My husband and I are leaning towards a “no” on the subject between the goals we want to achieve and our own difficulties, but the persistence of my mother is driving me straight to “no way in hell.”

She will not drop the subject to matter how much I ask, ignore, or redirect. Conversations with her leave me exhausted and feeling hunted. She goes between the most blanket lies like “she will raise the baby for us” to the most ridiculous like “having a baby is a solid retirement plan!” I had to go on several walks during Thanksgiving because I was so fed up with the subject, and I didn’t want to cause a fight. My mother is someone I used to talk to every other day, and now I just duck her calls because I know what the subject will be. It is like she doesn’t love me anymore—not my virtues, not my vices; I’m just a vessel for grandchildren. What do I do here?

—Good Enough

Dear Good Enough,

Your mom deserves to know that these conversations are upsetting you, and you deserve a break from them. Not to mention, I’m sure you want the ability to make a final decision about children that’s not shaped by being antagonized by your mother? The next time she brings up her fantasies about all the ways in which her imaginary grandchild will improve your life and hers, say something like this:

“Mom, we’re actually leaning toward not having children. I know that’s hard for you to hear because you’d really like a grandchild. Can I ask you not to bring it up to me anymore? It’s stressful for me, and it also hurts my feelings because you’ve always been so supportive of me, and now it seems like this thing I haven’t done yet and may never do is your main focus. I’d like us to get back to talking more because I value our relationship, and if I know I won’t have to talk about this issue, that would help a lot.”

Dear Prudence,

My boyfriend has constantly been reaching out to other girls the entirety of our relationship—I found this out because we used to have passwords to each other’s phones. The first time I caught him, I decided the interactions weren’t that worrisome. But recently he changed passwords. Even so, I found out he has been talking to an ex, telling her she’s beautiful and how he used to want to marry her. He also plans to meet her when they’re in the same city. I am so nervous about all of this, but he just blames me for having “invaded his privacy” on his phone. Is he right? What should I do?

—Anxious and Afraid

Dear Anxious,

I’m disappointed in him. Not just for emotional infidelity (if not more), but for using a cheating tactic that’s as old as the invention of cellular phone technology: Shifting the blame for infidelity to the person who snooped and discovered it. All the worst people do this. Don’t fall for it. He wants to marry someone else (which by the way is a big problem on its own!), he’s a hypocrite, and he’s not even competent enough to spin a story that covers his tracks. Even if you end up deciding that you can live without a 100 percent commitment to monogamy, you can do better with someone else.

I am a marginally successful writer, which means family members often send me material to read, usually asking how they can publish it. I never relish these requests, but I try to be polite. I now find myself in a situation that I could not have predicted. Last year, my aunt announced her intention to become a celebrated playwright. She has now written her first play, which she sent to me unsolicited along with the request/demand that I give her an “honest opinion” and pass it along to my agent. (I told her my agent does not represent work written for the stage, but my aunt is undeterred by this complication.) Of course I procrastinated, but after several weeks of brushing off increasingly hectoring emails from my aunt, I finally forced myself to read her play. I was shocked.