A hermit with a problem

A 27-year-old woman with no children, and a self-described curmudgeonly streak, writes in about a group of five boys, roughly 10 to 12, who keep targeting her on her own street.

“I just want to be able to walk through my neighborhood in peace!”

No practice for this

She grew up an only child with Breyer horses and Anne of Green Gables. Loud, disruptive kids are outside anything she has dealt with before.

“I have no experience with boisterous or disruptive children.”

Adults she could handle

Years of street harassment taught her when to respond and when to let it slide. Children scramble the playbook, because the usual moves feel off limits.

“As a woman, I sadly have quite a bit of experience dealing with being harassed.”

The driveway standoff

The boys stopped their bikes across her driveway and screamed at her. She put her blinker on and waited out a two-minute game of chicken until they moved.

Hello, then a slur

On an evening walk with her husband, the boys shouted hello. The couple greeted them back and kept going, and the greeting turned nasty within seconds.

“They began to scream that we were “fucking gay” and “Are you fucking deaf?””

What actually worries her

The insults run on sexual orientation and disability. She wonders what these boys say to people of color, and how they treat the younger kids on the block.

“I don’t want them to think this is an acceptable way to move through the world.”

Three unappealing options

Walk up and tell screaming children to knock it off, track down the parents and complain, or ignore it and hope it burns out. None of them felt right.

“I don’t enjoy giving mental space to such a petty issue, but also the injustice of it irks me.”

Not your kids, not your job

Nicole Cliffe opens with relief. These boys belong to somebody else, and the letter writer owes them nothing beyond a loose it-takes-a-village obligation.

“What horribly raised children!”

Knock on the parents' door

If she can identify the worst offender's family, Cliffe says to state it flatly and without apology, then leave.

“Your son called me ‘fucking gay,’ and I would prefer he not do so in the future.”

In the moment, stay short

On the street, Cliffe's script is three words or nothing at all. No debate, no explanation, no attempt to win an argument with a 12-year-old.

“In the moment, I would go for “That’s very rude” or a dignified silence”

Firm Adult Vocal Energy

If the boys turn on a younger child or anyone with a disability, step in. Cliffe says that adult voice is a real power most people never notice they have.

“That’s racist and rude. Leave this person alone.”

The baby voice fight

A second writer cooed at her boyfriend's infant nephew and he told her he hated it. He talks to babies in a flat adult register, which she finds sweet and also strange.

“Will I be doomed to either annoy my partner or talk to babies in a normal, robotic adult tone of voice?”

He can suck it up

Cliffe's verdict: one parent coos, the other greets the kid like a colleague asking after her toy giraffe. Both are normal and the baby will survive it.

“He’s just a weirdo. Whom you love.”

A ride nobody cleared

A third mother found out her 12-year-old rode on the highway with a 15-year-old who has a learner's permit and has not taken driver's ed. Jamilah Lemieux says raise it politely and firmly, then watch the reaction.

“Reasonable, respectful parents will simply apologize and make sure it doesn’t happen again”