DEAR MISS MANNERS: Do you have any ideas about how to tell people gently and pleasantly that they are not on the invitation list to your daughter's wedding?

I have now put on weddings for two daughters and will be doing so again for another daughter. I was very surprised to learn that people of one's acquaintance assume that they will be invited and are personally hurt when they learn that they are not on the list.

Example conversation with a friend:

He: So, what's going on with you?

Me: I'm very excited. My daughter is engaged!

He: When is the wedding?

Me: (date)

He: Great! I'll put it down on the calendar, and we'll be sure to be there.

Me: Uh ... duh ... hmmm ... um. Actually, I think my daughter and her fiance are planning to invite only people they know, you know, like their friends and family.

He: Well, aren't you inviting your friends, too?

Me: Well, yes, but only our good friends. (Ouch.) I mean people who have known the girls growing up or people who have met them before. (Oh, well, so much for that friendship.)

Another example:

Acquaintance of my daughter: Hey, I hear you got married!

Daughter: Yes, in April.

Acquaintance: Well, I had to find out from Charlotte. I was really surprised you got married and didn't invite me.

Daughter: We had a small wedding and invited mostly family and close friends.

Acquaintance: But you invited Charlotte. I always thought you and I were close.

And so it goes. I had had no idea that people assumed weddings were free-for-alls with everyone from the highways and byways of your life invited. Some people are simply rude and can be snubbed, but others are genuinely hurt and puzzled that you do not consider them to be among your close friends.

I have tried reiterating that we have big families, that the girls prefer small weddings, but nothing seems to make a difference. Can you come up with a response that doesn't hurt people's feelings?

GENTLE READER: Which feelings are those? Miss Manners has trouble believing in the emotional delicacy of people who demand invitations to private events and then brush off the very euphemisms designed to spare them the embarrassment they are causing.

She does, however, admire your delicacy -- just enough to commend you for it, but not enough to recommend your giving in to social blackmail. In addition to whatever reasons you originally had to omit these people from the guest list, you now have two more: They are careless about your feelings, and they have no compunction about violating social rules. These are not good harbingers of how they would behave at the wedding.

While you should certainly be gentle, rather than as blunt and rude as they, Miss Manners will allow you to be as oblivious to hints as they are. No matter what they say, just keep repeating, "You're so kind to take an interest."

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Does today's standard for a good father require him to be a good mother?

Miss Manners hastens to explain that she does not define "mothering" as putting up with one's own children to the extent of feeding them, airing them, listening to them, mopping up after them, explaining life to them and forcing them to write letters of thanks.

That is called parenting. No matter how many societies have held fast to the idea that this is a job description only for mothers, that is surely peculiar and contrary to nature. If such were the case, it would have been designed as either a day shift or a night shift, but not both.

As it is, child-rearing is an all-hands-on-deck, all-leaves-canceled-for-18-years undertaking. Attempts to spread the fun between those responsible for creating the children in the first place (and anyone else they can gang-press into participating) are therefore a needed corrective. Miss Manners is troubled only by the literal-minded spirit in which new parents now approach this.

She has been teaching herself not to cringe when a young gentleman says, "We are pregnant." It is sweetly meant, and surely an improvement, in both attitude and approximation of reality, on another statement one still occasionally hears: "She got herself pregnant."

Miss Manners does not even argue with the observation that it is unfair for mothers to bear, as it were, that entire burden. Nevertheless, as all the experimentation in matters of fertility has not even attempted to distribute pregnancy equally between parents, we have to deal with it.

She would have thought that the traditional compensation, whereby the father-to-be was expected to summon patience, tolerance and energy to deal with discomfort and whims on the part of the mother-to-be would be sufficient. Daily (and nightly) drilling in sympathizing, fetching and mopping up happens to be excellent training for parenthood.

If it seems superfluous for them also to participate in whatever exercise or other classes the expectant mother deemed necessary, it is nevertheless touching. Perhaps it provides a deeper sympathy, and in any case, it solves the problem of what to do between dropping her off and picking her up.

But the father-as-mother concept has turned all but compulsory for any prospective father who is not actually denying his connection and demanding DNA testing instead. Sympathizing is no longer considered enough to demonstrate his good will: He is assigned to be the coach, as well the photojournalist, and his presence and participation in the birth itself are hardly optional.

Miss Manners has nothing to say against this when it has the enthusiastic consent of all the adults involved -- father, mother and medical attendants -- and they promise not to subject innocent people to the video. As many ladies have come to regard giving birth as sport, or work of art, or religious experience, it is not implausible that their gentlemen have, as well.

But she worries about those who do not, and yet are afraid of disqualifying themselves as good fathers at the very start. Intimate physical phenomena, especially those involving witnessing pain, and even more especially those involving witnessing pain being endured by someone the witness loves, are not for everyone. Even experienced doctors do not participate in the treatment of their relatives.

Miss Manners' Father's Day message is directed to expectant mothers: A man can be a wonderful father even if he sits outside and waits.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: I feel awfully silly asking this question, but what is the proper response to, "I'm sorry"?

I usually find myself saying, "Don't worry about it," or "It's OK," neither of which I typically mean. "Apology accepted" sounds so sterile and, at least to my ears, has the ring of moral condemnation, which I also rarely intend to express.

GENTLE READER: Miss Manners gathers that you want a statement that will make you seem gracious but produce no relief to the person who made the apology. Is that about the size of it?

Short of "My seconds will call on you in the morning" (modern version: "You'll hear from my lawyer"), the reply to an apology is some version of, "That's quite all right." If you want nuances, you will have to practice the tone.

Rushing the words out as if you were embarrassed means, "Oh, goodness, I didn't think anything of it," while spacing each word and emphasizing them equally means, "I was wondering when you would get around to realizing the enormity of what you did."

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DEAR MISS MANNERS: I have become aware of increasing instances of gender-specific words being replaced by gender-neutral terms, for instance, "waiter" and "waitress" having been replaced with the generic "server." I understand that this practice began to prevent gender-based exclusion. And I appreciate substitutes such as "letter carrier" for "mailman," "fire fighter" for "fireman," "police officer" for "policeman" and "chair" for "chairman," as each of the traditional terms implies that a woman could not take up that vocation.

But I find it troublesome to think that perfectly acceptable and commonly used gender-specific phrases have become politically incorrect. What is degrading about being a waitress or a stewardess? And why are actresses now calling themselves female actors?

It seems as though women hate to be viewed as feminine, and so they are adopting gender-neutral titles. I affirm the need for neutrality when words exclude women from a given profession, but why must we fall to the least common denominator when there are perfectly familiar and comfortable gender-specific terms?

I realize that this inquiry may seem a bit old-fashioned. For what it's worth, I am 24 years old and simply hate to think that I'm living in a world where I must keep my womanhood under wraps.

GENTLE READER: If you are puzzled, you can imagine the bewilderment of a sweet, old-fashioned feminist like Miss Manners. She has no problem with the gender-neutral terms, such as "server"; what bothers her is when male terms are used to replace female ones. Little did she think, as part of the effort to assert female dignity by disallowing grown-ups to be called "girls" that they would then endorse being addressed as "you guys."

DEAR MISS MANNERS: My housemate's 5-year-old son is very fond of me, probably because, until recently, I mistakenly succumbed to most of his demands on my attention. Now I can't count on a minute alone from 9 a.m. to 10 p.m. If he catches me outside my room, he follows me wherever I go; if I guiltily ignore his constant knocks at my door, he comes in anyway.

I've begun to say no, tried to offer alternative activities for him, and explained that I wish I could play but I want to be by myself for a while. This sometimes makes him cry, which makes me feel awful and is usually plain ineffective.

If his mother's paying attention, she keeps him in check very well, but she makes long daily phone calls, the duration of which he spends in my room, demanding my full attention. Do you have any suggestions for how to (gently) teach a 5-year-old a few manners, especially regarding closed doors?

GENTLE READER: Miss Manners has the heartbreaking feeling that manners are not what this child most obviously lacks. She finds herself hoping that you return his affection and that although you understandably need time for yourself, you are devoted enough to help him secure some much-needed companionship.

The simplest way to do this is to inform his mother that she cannot leave him to his own lonely devices, which turn out to be you, but should arrange activities such as play dates and after-school sessions when she is too busy to be with him herself. As she seems oblivious, this may not be the most effective way, however. If you were to take the initiative in doing this, Miss Manners would consider it an excellent deed.

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