Mom has never been one to chew with her mouth open, and she certainly taught me as a little boy the same principle of social and eating etiquette. But she must love, or be absolutely oblivious to, the crunching smacking sounds of certain foods.  Her routine breakfast includes a bowl of dry honey nut Cheerios with milk on the side in a glass.  With each fingers-full of Cheerios, the first five quick delighted chews are with the lips parted and the full crunching reverberating through the downstairs.  At least that how it seems to me.  After breakfast comes the Mentos Pure Fresh peppermint gum, chewed with wet delighted smacks.  Over the course of months, I have spent hours composing messages of gentle and not-so-gentle confrontation.  Could you please chew with your mouth closed?!  An obviously rude question destined for failure and offense.  Your chewing is pretty loud.  Still too direct.   The right message and the right delivery are important to an old person whose dementia takes the form of anxiety and sweetness and deference and wanting always to be good.  The casual candor I might otherwise employ could really hurt my mother’s fragile feelings.  Finally, I landed upon the perfectly balanced approach, I thought, with the benign observation, I can tell you’re really enjoying your gum.  She looked slightly embarrassed, but not ashamed or belittled, and responded that she was, she guessed, and that she was chewing a little loud, she guessed, and she would try to remember not to smack.  I’m sure she had not noticed her crunching and smacking before, other than within her own skull, because she hasn’t been able to hear life’s smaller sounds.  With her new hearing aids, she likely will be more aware.