Dear Queenie,

My brother has two children with a woman he loves. The problem is that she is still legally married to someone else, even though they separated years ago. Under the law here, the children automatically have the husband’s last name because she was still married when they were born. The husband cannot be found to finalize the divorce, and because of that everything is complicated. My brother cannot easily travel with the children. Paperwork is constantly an issue. School and official documents are confusing because the legal father on paper is someone who has nothing to do with their lives. To make matters worse, my brother even did a DNA test just to confirm what everyone already knows, the children are his. As a sister, it frustrates me deeply. My nephews deserve stability and clarity. Instead, they are stuck in a legal mess caused by adults who are not even in their lives. Is there anything that can be done in a situation like this? Or do they have to wait forever for a divorce that may never happen? —An Aunt Who Is Worried for the Boys

Dear An Aunt Who Is Worried for the Boys,

Your frustration is understandable. Situations like this feel unfair because the reality of a family does not match what the law recognizes on paper. Under Dutch family law, which applies in Sint Maarten, a child born to a married woman is legally presumed to be the child of her husband, even if he is not the biological father. This legal presumption automatically makes the husband the child’s legal parent and places his name on official records. That presumption is exactly what is creating the complications you describe. However, the situation is not hopeless. There are legal paths forward, although they usually require court involvement. First, the legal paternity of the husband can potentially be challenged or denied in court. Family courts can examine evidence, including DNA results, when determining the child’s legal parentage. Second, once that legal presumption is removed or clarified, your brother may be able to formally acknowledge the children at the civil registry. Acknowledgement creates a legal parent-child relationship and gives the father rights and responsibilities toward the child. In cases where a parent cannot be located, courts can still proceed with certain family law matters, but it often requires a lawyer and formal petitions to move the process forward. Because minors are involved, the Court of Guardianship in Sint Maarten can also become part of the process to protect the interests of the children and advise the court on the best legal solution. What your nephews need most is legal clarity, not just emotionally but administratively. Travel, schooling, inheritance, and parental authority all depend on having the correct legal parent recognized. So while it may feel like the system is stuck, the law does provide mechanisms to correct these situations. The next practical step is for your brother and the children’s mother to consult a family-law attorney who works with paternity and guardianship matters in Sint Maarten. DNA may prove who the father is. But the court is what makes it official. And once that happens, the paperwork, and the boys’ future, can finally start to match the truth of their lives. —Queenie

Dear Queenie,

I take my son to swimming lessons every week. At our last session, I noticed a small boy who had come out of the water and was visibly shivering. He couldn’t have been more than six or seven. Next to him was his older sister, also a child, but clearly the one responsible for him. The coach noticed the same thing and walked over to ask why the boy didn’t have dry clothes. The sister’s response? “Mind your own business.” To say the coach was surprised would be an understatement. I was too. Not just because of the disrespect, but because of the attitude from someone so young. It made me wonder what kind of guidance some children are getting today. The coach was clearly concerned for the child’s wellbeing, yet the reaction was hostility. I left feeling unsettled. Are adults no longer allowed to step in for a child’s safety without being pushed away? Is this just a moment of rudeness from one child, or are we slowly losing the culture where adults look out for all children? —Concerned at the Pool

Dear Concerned at the Pool,

What you witnessed was not just rudeness. It was a failure somewhere upstream. Children do not invent that kind of response on their own. They learn it. They absorb it from the tone set at home, from how adults speak to teachers, coaches, and anyone who dares to question their behavior. “Mind your own business” from a young child is rarely about confidence. It is usually imitation. And that is where parenting enters the conversation. In Sint Maarten, as in many Caribbean communities, we often say it takes a village to raise a child. But that phrase only works when the village is allowed to function. Coaches checking on a shivering child are not interfering. They are doing exactly what responsible adults should do. Respect for adults is not about blind obedience. It is about recognising that guidance and concern are part of growing up safely. When a child feels comfortable dismissing an adult who is trying to ensure her brother is warm and safe, it suggests she has not been taught the difference between independence and disrespect. That is not the child’s fault. It is the responsibility of the adults raising her. One rude moment does not define a generation. But it does remind us that manners, empathy, and basic respect do not appear magically with age. They must be modeled, reinforced, and expected. If we want communities where adults can still look out for children, then children must also be raised to recognise care when it is offered. Respect, like swimming, is something that must be taught early. —Queenie

Dear Queenie,

My children want a pet. They have been asking for months. A dog, a cat, anything with fur that they can love and play with. They promise they will help. They promise they will feed it. They promise they will clean up after it. But I am a Caribbean mother. Which means I already do almost everything. I work, I cook, I clean, I organize school schedules, I remember birthdays, I handle homework, I keep the house running. My husband helps sometimes, but most days I am the one holding the entire operation together. Now they want a pet. All I see is more work. Feeding. Cleaning. Vet visits. Hair everywhere. Another life depending on me. And if I’m honest, I’m already tired. But when my children ask, their faces light up with hope. I don’t want to be the mother who always says no. Childhood should have some joy in it. At the same time, I know how these things go. The excitement fades, and the responsibility quietly lands on me. How do I balance not disappointing my children with the reality that I am already overwhelmed? —Already Carrying the House

Dear Already Carrying the House,

You are not saying no to joy. You are recognizing your limits. And that is responsible parenting. Pets are wonderful additions to families, but they are not decorations. They are daily commitments. Food, care, attention, vet bills, cleaning — every single day, whether you feel tired or not. Your instinct is correct: in many households, when children promise to “do everything,” the enthusiasm lasts about two weeks. After that, the responsibility settles onto the parent who already carries most of the load. Which, in your case, sounds like you. Before you agree to a pet, pause and ask a different question: Who will actually care for this animal when the excitement fades? If the answer is “me,” then you are allowed to say not now. Children also benefit from learning that adults make decisions based on capacity, not guilt. A tired, overwhelmed parent does not magically become less tired because a puppy enters the house. However, if you want to explore the idea without committing, try a test. Offer a trial of responsibility. Assign daily tasks for a few months that mimic pet care: feeding schedules, cleaning duties, consistent routines. If they show discipline over time, not just enthusiasm, the conversation can reopen. And include your husband in this discussion. A family decision requires family participation, not silent expectation. You are not the villain for protecting your energy. You are the manager of a household that already runs on your effort. Joy matters for children. But so does a mother who is not completely exhausted. —Queenie

Dear Queenie,

A dear friend recently told me her cancer has returned, and the doctors have said her time may be limited. True to who she is, she is facing it with incredible courage. She talks about making the most of the time she has, staying positive, and living fully. I admire her strength deeply, and when I’m with her I match that energy. I smile. I encourage. I stay hopeful because that seems to be what she wants. But privately, I feel something else. I feel sadness. Sometimes anger. Sometimes the urge to cry for no clear reason. And occasionally I feel tired from trying to stay so positive all the time. Then I feel guilty for even thinking that way, because she is the one actually facing the illness. Is it selfish to need space for those heavier emotions when she is choosing positivity? Should I just follow her lead and keep things light? Or is it okay that I am grieving in my own way already? —Holding It Together

Dear Holding It Together,

What you are feeling is not selfish. It is love colliding with reality. When someone we care about faces serious illness, many people instinctively mirror the tone that person sets. If your friend chooses courage and positivity, it makes sense that you want to support her in that space. That is a gift you are giving her. But supporting her does not mean you stop being human. Your sadness, your anger, even your exhaustion from holding yourself steady, those emotions are not competing with her experience. They are the natural response of someone who cares deeply and is beginning to process the possibility of loss. Your friend’s bravery does not require you to be emotionally silent. In fact, it is often healthier for both people when the emotional weight is shared in appropriate ways. That may not mean pouring your grief onto her if she is not in that place, but it does mean finding safe spaces for those feelings elsewhere – trusted friends, family, faith leaders, or a counsellor. Grief does not begin the day someone dies. It often begins the moment uncertainty enters the room. Crying, reflecting, even feeling anger at the unfairness of it all does not diminish your support for her. If anything, it allows you to return to her with honesty and presence rather than emotional exhaustion. Follow her lead when you are with her. If she wants laughter and lightness, give that freely. But give yourself permission, elsewhere, to feel the full range of what this moment brings. Love makes room for joy and sorrow at the same time. You are not failing her by feeling deeply. You are simply walking beside her in a very human way. —Queenie