Every December, a massive tin of mail-order cookies thumps onto the porch like a festive landmine: dry, tasteless bricks from “Emily,” the saintly family friend who became their surrogate mom after both parents died. The thirty-something siblings cringe, hate them, never take a bite, yet drown in guilt as her pension money turns to garbage.
They don’t want new gifts, they just want her to stop the ritual before another tin dies uneaten. Asking feels like stabbing Mrs. Claus, but silence means more wasted cash and cardboard.
Siblings want to stop family friend from gifting unwanted cookies, but struggle to tell her.
Getting gifts you don’t like is as much a December tradition as terrible Christmas music in every store. But when the giver is practically family and the gift has been the same for years, suddenly everyone’s opinions go loud.
The core issue here is the clash between two very valid truths: Emily is showing love the only way she knows how, and the siblings are trying to protect both her wallet and their consciences.
Rejecting a gift directly can feel like rejecting the person, which is why most etiquette experts beg you to tread lightly. You never want the person to feel that their caring gesture was in vain. The kindest route is almost always gratitude plus creative redistribution.
A 2018 study on gift-giving psychology published in the Journal of Consumer Psychology found that givers feel far more connected to recipients when they pick something themselves, even if it misses the mark than when recipients hint or ask for specific items.
In plain English: Emily probably lights up imagining the siblings opening “her” cookies every year. Telling her they’ve been trash-bound could dim that light more than the siblings realize.
Food waste guilt is real, though. The USDA estimates that 30-40% of the U.S. food supply is wasted, and perfectly edible gifts getting tossed is a tiny but painful slice of that pie.
Still, experts agree the polite move is to handle the cookies yourselves: drop them at a fire station, senior center, or office break room where they’ll disappear in ten minutes flat.
Etiquette expert Diane Gottsman advises, “You don’t have to lie, but you can thank them for their effort and mention the gift.” Harsh? Maybe. But it beats making a 60-something widow feel her love language is suddenly invalid.
The mature solution: keep saying thank you, get creative about passing the cookies along (one commenter even suggested leaving them in the apartment lobby with a “Free to good home” sign), and if you absolutely must steer future gifts, drop casual hints months in advance:“ We’re trying to cut back on sweets this year!”, instead of a Christmas Eve ambush.
Emily keeps her joy, nobody’s feelings get crumbled, and the cookies find bellies that actually want them. Win-win-win.
Here’s how people reacted to the post:
Some people believe it’s ungrateful and rude to tell Emily you don’t want her cookies anymore.
Some people say just accept the cookies gratefully and quietly get rid of them later.
Some people think directly rejecting years of gifts would hurt Emily’s feelings unnecessarily.
This isn’t really about cookies, it’s about not wanting to hurt someone who’s already been a lifeline during the worst times. Do you think a gentle “please no more cookies” from two grateful adults would destroy Emily, or is Reddit right that some gifts are best accepted with a silent redirect to the nearest donation box?
How would you handle a well-meaning but doomed-to-the-trash present from someone who feels like family? Drop your verdict below!
