Q: My friend Hannah insisted on an open-door policy when our 4-year-olds were playing in the bedroom. I think kids should have some privacy. As the host mommy, should I concede to her way?

Can you imagine what this mother will be like when her children are teenagers? This is the kind of “helicopter parenting” that’s become a cultural trend—one that can prevent our kids from developing independence. Parents seem to forget that when they were kids, they would go into bedrooms or backyards, or up into tree houses and down into basements, with other kids—and that’s where, apart from grown-ups, they’d play.

What does Hannah think will go on while she’s not looking or listening or videotaping (or however she performs her surveillance)? Though you may feel like telling her to back off, ask her about it. You could say, “You know, I think they’re okay in there. Are you worried about her safety or… what exactly?” See what she says. I’d be surprised if she even knows.

If it is a safety issue or something specific to her child’s needs (for example, “Olivia curses wildly without parents around” or “Hailey has an acute case of infantile claustrophobia”), let it go. Otherwise, it might start a good dialogue about what your kids are capable of or what kinds of toys they’re playing with. You can also talk to the children together, lay some ground rules and tell them that they can come to you if there’s a problem.

If you don’t want to go down that philosophical and potentially awkward road, you could step in while she’s opening the door and speak to your son directly: “Hey, Brian, would you mind, just for today, leaving this door open while you guys play? I think Hailey’s mom would prefer it.” This way, he’ll understand why the rules are shifting, and you won’t have to delve further into the underbelly of hovering Hannah’s psyche.

Q: A coworker is always passing around a fund-raising form for something—wrapping paper for her kids’ school, a jump-rope-a-thon. How many of these charity drives must I participate in?

You’re not obligated to participate in any charity—whatever you sponsor or purchase is up to your discretion. However, if you have a particular soft spot for someone in the office, buying something for her child’s school is certainly a nice way to express it. Some people don’t participate in fund-raising sales unless they’re going to need a particular item anyway; wrapping paper is a good example. Instead of going to Sam’s Club, for example, you might as well help out little Susie Miller.

Read-a-thons and sponsored races are clearly less fruitful for the investor, but at least the amount given can be adjusted to any budget. Be sure to ask how many miles or laps the sponsee is likely to do, or if you can give a flat donation.

My brother pledged a dollar a lap for the walk-a-thon at my son’s elementary school one year. Little did we know, the kids essentially ran around the perimeter of a tree planter, and Uncle Rod ended up owing $120. Not exactly what he had in mind when he signed up.

The point is, your total donation could amount to the price of a latte. But if you don’t want to give any amount, there’s nothing wrong with taking a pass. “I’d love to,” you could say, “but my husband and I are in lockdown mode with our finances right now. We’re really trying to spend only on the necessities.” And with that, if your coworker does anything more than give a quick wave and discreetly exit your office, go ahead and buy as much Sam’s Club wrapping paper as you can carry. Guilt-free.

Sally Schultheiss, a freelance writer who specializes in life and family issues, lives in Los Angeles with her husband and children Eddie, 6, and Jane, 4.