Awful desserts require tweaks to recipes and family dynamics

store-bought to save her time, explained that we’re trying to be healthy and abstain from dessert, and finally said that although we sympathize that she can’t have gluten, we don’t find the gluten-free items worth the calories. Nothing deters her and the desserts keep coming, along with awkward moments for those who feel compelled to eat them.

This question is about whether it’s better for me to continue being blunt or just learn to bite my tongue, but I’d also like your advice on generally how I should react as she ages. Feeling like she’s contributing is so important to her.

This is a sad chapter in any family, the long or abrupt goodbye to beloved members and the roles they play in your lives. It’s even sadder for people who have apparently never heard of cheesecake. Or fudge.

Your desire not to patronize her can take root in the fact that she’s at the youngest end of old. So it’s time to tweak her role in the family, not phase it out. I mean, seriously, you’re just tweaking recipes at this point.

Any adjustment you make to your interactions with your mom will sound best (and the least patronizing) in your own voice. So a historically comically blunt you would offer a fudge cheesecake recipe to your mom as, “Let’s try for gag-free gluten-free.”

With, of course, careful attention to how your usual tone is received. Sensitivities vary over time as well. As any parent of a 13-year-old can tell you. If she flinches, then go for buffered truth: “Mom, you’re the best baker I know. You’ll figure out the gluten-free thing — I’ve done some Googling, if you’re interested.”

As for whether you’re required to eat inedible desserts in the meantime, again, read the room. If the room tells you to be brave, then remind yourself that society has had this one covered for years. A few bites and a thank-you.

And when you get to the point where traditional usefulness in the form of feeding or hosting or cleaning is really out of the question for a loved one, don’t forget the usefulness of sharing and presence. Your elderly relative who feels she “can’t do anything for anyone anymore” is the one whose company you request, whose stories you prompt, whose chair you pull yours up to, whose photo albums you retrieve so she can tell you who everyone is and what was happening on that day.