Settling into your childhood home doesn’t have to be unsettling

As any frustrated buyer will tell you, these days it helps to butter up a seller — and it’s that much easier if the seller happens to be Mom and Dad.

Amy-King-Childhood-Bedroom
Amy King (left) and her wife, Stacey Vamvas, play with their son, Ben, in his room, which was King’s childhood bedroom. Aram Boghosian for The Boston Globe

In July, the median sales price of a single-family home hit $423,250, and inventory dropped to its lowest in a given month since the Massachusetts Association of Realtors began recording data in 2004. As any frustrated buyer will tell you, these days it helps to butter up a seller — and it’s that much easier if the seller happens to be Mom and Dad.

Of course, it’s even nicer to be gifted a house, but we’re assuming that Mom and Dad need to make a profit.

Susana Lannik, an estate planning and elder law attorney based in Newton and Mashpee, advises older sellers to consider their own needs before those of adult children who are tired of scouting open houses.

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“Are they being influenced by their children to do this to their detriment?’’ Lannik warned, noting that many older people now prefer to age in place. She also cautions sellers who might hope to use proceeds from a sale to pay for assisted living or a new home to be aware of capital gains taxes on property, which can put a substantial dent in the profit from a sale.

“Treat your child like any other buyer: Consult with an estate planning attorney to ensure that the way you’re selling it won’t [change] your estate plan, consult with an accountant about the consequences, and get a conveyancing attorney to handle the deal. These are attorneys who specialize in buying and selling a home,’’ she said. She also urges sellers to hire an appraiser to assess their home and ensure a fair price.

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When done right, it’s a solution that benefits both sides: Empty-nesters can generate profits from a home they’ve outgrown without paying a realty commission; buyers can avoid bidding wars and stressful open houses.

Such was the case for Arlington’s Mike and Emily Libby. Mike grew up in Arlington Heights in the same Colonial where his dad was raised. In the 1970s and 1980s, Arlington was a modest, blue-collar town, but when Mike and Emily were ready to upgrade to a bigger house in 2012 to accommodate their growing family, his old neighborhood was hot.

The couple looked at other homes, but nothing fit. “Everything was expensive and needed a lot of work. We kept coming back to the idea of my parents’ house, because I knew it was a good, solid house. I knew it had been taken care of by my dad,’’ Mike said. Meanwhile, his parents felt secure knowing the house would stay in the family.

Emily said they deliberately treated the transaction professionally. The home was appraised by a realtor using comparable homes on the market. As they navigated the process, everyone met to discuss cosmetic changes. This was key for Emily — she didn’t want to feel like she was trespassing in her in-laws’ abode, and she really wanted to paint their gumwood trim white.

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“I basically sat them down and said, ‘I think the house is beautiful, there’s so much I love about it, but I want to feel like it’s mine,’ ’’ she said. Fortunately, her in-laws happily ceded control.

Over in Waltham, Amy King is now raising her son in the same four-bedroom Colonial where she grew up. She and her wife, Stacey Vamvas, bought the property from King’s father at a slight discount because he transferred equity in the home to her as a gift.

“He said he’d probably leave me money at some point in his will, so this was giving some of it to me early,’’ King said. “It would have been difficult for us [to buy] otherwise. What we would have been able to afford would’ve been smaller’’ or somewhere else.

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Amy King as a young girl in front of the Waltham house where she grew up. – Handout
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Her home today. – Aram Boghosian for The Boston Globe

He still pops in to help with household repairs. The couple’s son, Ben, sleeps in King’s old bedroom.

“I can remember how it looked when I shared it with my sister. It’s interesting to see him in there, to sit in that room and read him books before bed, and remember playing with my sister in that room. It’s not an experience many people get,’’ she said.

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Those are the good stories.

Sometimes, though, fond childhood memories don’t match reality. Bethany Innis, a veterinarian, loved growing up in Boxborough in the 1980s and 1990s. At the time, the town was a pastoral oasis. Her dad built their family home, and when her parents were ready to downsize to a condo, she was content to leave Medford and buy it at a fair market rate. Her brother lived nearby in Acton (in his wife’s family home, in fact), and she was eager for her two young daughters to go to school with cousins.

But then reality set in: Her husband, Tom, endured a two-hour round-trip commute into downtown Boston. Her veterinary clients were closer to the city, and she spent too much time in her car, traveling to meet them. Plus, the town she remembered had changed.

“It felt less farm-y and more suburban,’’ she said. “The pastoral beauty didn’t offset all the driving.’’ Within a year of moving in, the family began to look at homes closer to the city. Ultimately they decamped to Belmont, selling the Boxborough house at a small loss. No hard feelings with her parents, though.

“I was worried that they’d see it as, ‘We don’t want to be near you.’ It was really nice being close to them. But they saw how stressed I was, and they’d already transitioned away from the house when they sold it to us,’’ Innis said.

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Of course, sometimes spirits don’t fully transition. Kimberley Ring Allen bought her three-bedroom Wakefield Cape in 2005. There’s still a “Ring’’ nameplate to the right of the doorbell that she isn’t ready to take down.

“I want to feel like my family is still here together,’’ Allen said. In some ways, they really are. Her late father makes his presence felt throughout the home at unexpected times, she said. Take, for example, the bronze shamrock her parents had engraved with the closing date when she and her spouse bought the house. Sometimes it tumbles off the wall. Once, a champagne glass flew off the wine rack and shattered on the floor. Every time something happens, Allen said, something is amiss at her father’s grave.

“Last time this happened, I went to the cemetery, and his headstone was covered by plywood’’ left over from another burial, she said. Another time, there were tire tracks on the plot.

For Lauren Glidden and her husband, Dan, there are difficult memories.

The couple rent his family home in Newton to save money while she attends school. Her husband’s parents now live in Vancouver, British Columbia, and have rented out the home for years, so it’s not decorated as it was when he lived there. In some ways, it’s a shrewd arrangement — the family pays about $1,900 a month, the same amount they had spent for a Watertown rental they had outgrown, for a home with far more space for their two children and dog.

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But Glidden sometimes feels out of place.

“This is a $1.1 million house in Newton. There’s no way in hell we could afford it otherwise. We don’t make enough money to be hobnobbing with the neighbors,’’ she said, laughing, “and they are very nice.’’

But the past looms large: Her son, born in May, sleeps in the same bedroom as her husband’s brother did. His brother died when a school bus carrying pupils from Newton’s Oak Hill Middle School crashed in 2001.

The Gliddens plan to relocate when Lauren is done with school, but in the meantime, she’s trying to make happy memories in the home.

“Maybe we’ll make this a family place again by having our kids here. We’ll give it a last hurrah with our kids, our family, and our dog, and make it not be a house of sadness anymore, but a house of joy and new life,’’ she said.

Back in Arlington, Mike and Emily Libby have infused their home with new life, too. After six years, they’ve settled in (and changed the trim), but old touches remain. There’s still a height chart on a wooden beam off the kitchen, marking the growth of Mike and other children. And there’s still an old bar in the basement complete with an avocado green eight-track stereo, home to generations of parties. “I’m sure we’ll regret that bar when our kids get older,’’ Mike said with a laugh.

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As for those kids? They attend Dallin Elementary School, the same place he went more than 30 years ago.

Kara Baskin can be reached at [email protected]Subscribe to the Globe’s free real estate newsletter — our weekly digest on buying, selling, and design — at pages.email.bostonglobe.com/AddressSignUp. Follow us on Facebook and Twitter @globehomes.

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