A couple of weeks ago I drove my oldest son out to Stony Brook University for freshman orientation. I’m not sure which of us was more excited.

It was a lot different from my college, the Brooklyn Center of Long Island University. That was a collection of buildings around a concerete yard, euphemistically described as “an urban campus.” This was in the early 1970s. when Brooklyn hadn’t recovered from the Dodgers leaving town and there was a dangerous scent of decay all around.

In contrast, Stony Brook is a big-league college campus that stretches out in all directions. This SUNY school won’t be confused with Georgetown, or Fordham or even NYU, however. There’s lots of utilitarian ‘50s, ‘60s and ‘70s architecture, though Stony Brook seems to be compensating with lots of greenery and newer buildings that have a friendly and generous feeling.

My son went to his orientation session and I went mine. It was thorough and ran 6 1/2 hours. They told us about about academics, meal plans, campus jobs, and dorms that sometimes squeeze three incoming students into a room meant for two. They talked about campus security, and if my son didn’t get the message that the dorm room needs to be locked when he goes out, I did.

Then they told us that the bill  for tuition, room and board would be arriving soon. Oh, and it needs to be paid by Sept. 15.  But since it’s one-third the cost of a lot of private schools, I’m a big SUNY fan.   I told my neighbor, and now she’s teachng her 4-year-old to say SUNY – over and over.

At lunch a few of the parents wandered around the campus. We liked what we saw and we wanted to go back to school. As for our kids? Let them wait their turn. They probably wouldn’t appreciate it as much as we would.

How many shared-custody situations are out there where the child prefers one parent’s home to the other because “it’s more fun?” Particularly for younger children, this usually means that one parent’s home is all about play and the other involves actual parenting — rules and restrictions and doctor visits and doing homework.

I can think of several single- and divorced-parent situations where this is the case. In one friend’s case, the dad’s house has tons of toys and the child is routinely treated to milk shakes, donuts and sweets, and is allowed to fall asleep on the couch watching TV. Because the dad routinely has the child on weekends, there are few situations where the child has to be woken up early, dressed and prepared for school. The child gets up when the child gets up, and then it’s usually a day of fun in the sun.

Then there’s the mom. She has to get the child to school, has to be more conscious of dietary needs and is constantly trying to include vegetables and protein in meals. There are plenty of toys and play time, but with school, doctor visits and other utilitarian tasks built in, it pales in comparison to the nearly limitless play time at dad’s house. The end result is the parent trying to do the right thing for the child is the “less fun” parent, and has to regularly hear her child ask to go to daddy’s house.

She’s not alone. Another friend’s teenagers see their dad’s house as a refuge and a “safe place” when the mom tries to set curfews and limits on this or that. She’s forced to instill discipline. The end result is that one of her teens finally moved in with dad, who has provided little financial support for his children’s needs and close to no emotional support. The teen now lives with few rules.

And this is gender neutral. I’m highlighting two of the situations I know of personally, but I — of all people — don’t want to sound like I’m beating up the dads. I had friends in a single-parents group I once belonged to who were dads in similar situations. One dad who lives in the Carolinas was raising his children almost entirely on his own, carting them to school, tutors and the doctor while constantly hearing from them how mom never made them do these things. The mom primarily showed up to blame the dad when there was a problem at school. He, like my two other friends, have been forced to do the hardest thing of all: Keep quiet. They refuse, to their credit, to set the record straight for the children. They refuse to put the kids in the middle. They shouldn’t.

But what does one tell a parent in that situation? My advice has been to keep doing the right thing and ultimately the child will appreciate it — or at least one can hope so. The pessimist in me realizes that poetic justice only happens in plays and novels, not in real life. My more optimistic side clings to the notion that good intentions and actions are ultimately rewarded, if not with appreciation then certainly with the satisfaction of knowing you made your child a better and healthier person in the end.

Because it would just be nice to know that it’s a game where there are no real losers.

It’s been two years since we started the Parents’ Place blog here at LoHud.com. During these two years, we’ve written 524 posts on everything from breastfeeding to divorce to toy guns. The readers of this blog have been even busier — posting 1,817 comments!

Here’s a link to my first post, where I introduce Pumpkin and talk a bit about what we hoped to do with the blog.

Let us know how you are enjoying the blog and what you’d like to see us do in the next 12 months. Thanks for reading!

What are you Parents’ Place readers doing this summer? Vote in our poll in the right column of the page to share your plans.

We’re heading to Sesame Place next week in what Pumpkin is already expecting will be the time of her life. We’ve been looking at the brochure and she keeps touching the picture of the Big Bird’s Balloon Race and saying, “I’ll be BIG happy when I’m on there.” Let’s just hope Sesame Place lives up to expectations.

I vote sink. While few of us are probably fond of dusting, vacuuming or cleaning up the kitchen crud, I infinitely prefer working around the house to taking a trip to the dentist. But, apparently, not everyone agrees. A new poll from iVillage’s Momtourage site found that more than one in four people (27 percent!) would rather have a tooth drilled than clean their homes. Another 13 percent would rather get in trouble with their boss than tackle the home chores!

This wasn’t just an unscientific Internet poll, either. The results were based on telephone interviews of about 1,000 people and had a margin of error of just 3 percent.

So, what about you: How much do you hate or love cleaning in relation to other chores?

I figure with cleaning, at least you get a big reward at the end: A tidy home that everyone can enjoy. Though we’ve become a bit lax on the tidy front since becoming parents — our living room is Pumpkin’s playroom, after all — we have tried not to compromise on the clean front. Keeping a clean home was a value instilled in me by my mother and grandmother. I learned to dust and vacuum as early as junior high age, when I was assigned those duties as chores. By high school, I was often cleaning the bathroom and kitchen, too. I am fortunate, I know, because my husband does a big share of the household chores. We divide tasks not by gender, but by ability (for instance, I have allergies and he takes on the vacuuming).

The thing that’s unfortunate about polls like the one from iVillage is that they perpetuate the idea that a clean house is something that can happen only with odious labor. We’ve gone in a generation from being ashamed of having a dirty house to having to make apologetic sounds about having a clean one. Whenever someone comments on my house being clean, I feel like I have to say, “Oh, I have alleriges. We HAVE to keep it this way.” Keeping a clean house is definitely a value I hope Pumpkin will inherit. And I must make a note to myself: Stop grumbling about cleaning or else she will end up thinking I’d rather be doing anything else — even having my tooth drilled!

And no, I don’t mean supernaturally with the aid of a spiritual medium. I mean in thoughts, whether recorded in pen and ink, an audio or video recording or in a final e-mail message.

This is a question every parent needs to think about, whether we are hale and hearty or fresh from a disturbing biopsy. We cannot know in what manner or time our deaths will come, and we need to think about who we are leaving behind.

Most people probably (hopefully) have a will and have named a guardian. Some have life insurance. But how many of us have prepared a message for our kids to hear or read or see after we die? A message that lets them know who we were, what we dreamed and what we hope for their future?

What inspired this post is the amazing story of Randy Paush, who died today. He was a computer science professor at Carnegie Mellon University who performed pioneering work in virtual reality and how people relate to computers. He was also an inspiring teacher who embraced life with unusual zeal and joy.

Last September, he delivered a lecture that has become famous, first as a YouTube phenomenon and later as a best-selling book. What made the hour-long talk such a phenomenon was the wisdom, humor and humanity Paush conveyed in what he called his “last lecture.” Just 47, he learned weeks before the lecture that he would soon die of pancreatic cancer. But the lecture is not doom and gloom. Far from it. It was about how he had achieved his childhood dreams. The lecture, which has inspired millions, was truly given for an audience of three: Paush’s children, who today are 6, 3 and 2. “Under the ruse of giving an academic lecture, I was trying to put myself in a bottle that would one day wash up on the beach for my children,” he wrote in the introduction to his book, “The Last Lecture.” (Photo from USA Today.)

Here is the original Wall Street Journal article written by a reporter who attended the lecture and was moved to share it with the world (no subscription required). Here is USA Today’s story on his death, which has a links to a very nice photo gallery. And here is a link to a Diane Sawyer report on Pausch.

Since I heard that Randy died today, I’m crying tears of both sadness, inspiration — and guilt. I learned of his story months ago when I read this article and still haven’t created a posthumous message to Pumpkin.

I need to do this. We all need to do this. While few of us will have the talent of Randy Paush — or have lived his amazing life — we all can share something of ourselves with our children that can last even if we aren’t here. And if we are still alive as we hope, well then, won’t it be interesting for both of us to read what I imagined what I’d want to say to Pumpkin on her graduation day, the first day of her first job, her wedding day and the day her first child is born? I’d also like to write a letter to old Pumpkin, who I think about fondly quite often. I enjoy imagining her as a 92-year-old woman — that’s my goal age for her — and I hope with such hope that she will look back on a happy and useful and amazing life.

I hope to be around for many years to hug her and love her like only a mother can. But if I’m not, I want her to know what a gift she’s been to me. I’d like to tell her the stories I would have told while we lived our lives: Making dinner, shopping for school clothes and riding in the car between soccer games, ballet lessons and visiting colleges. I could tell her about what I was like as a child and a teenager, how I met her father, why I became a newspaper reporter and how I never put her down in her bassinet if I could carry her when she was a little baby. It will be a love letter to the greatest love of my life.

As I write this, it makes me think I’d like to write an article about the different ways people create posthumous messages to their kids. Contact me if you want to talk about how you’ve created messages for your kids, whether it’s in a video or an e-mail or in some other medium. My e-mail is jalterio@lohud.com and my number is 914-666-6189.

And here’s a big thank you for Randy Paush and his amazing example.

Who knew that by making Pumpkin a delicious peanut butter and jelly sandwich, I’m not just feeding her a protein-packed lunch but helping the planet?

That’s the message of the PB&J Campaign, which exhorts the environmentally minded among us to pass up the chicken salad: “You recycle. You choose organic. You conserve energy. Now take at-home environmentalism to the next level.”

The idea, of course, is that plants like peanuts and strawberries and wheat take less energy, water and land to turn into food compared to livestock like cows and pigs.

It turns out that every day you eat a PB&J for lunch instead of a hamburger or grilled cheese, you save the same amount of carbon dioxide — about 2.5 pounds worth — that you would if you drove a Prius, according to the campaign. Eating just five PB&J sandwiches a month saves so much water that it’s like installing a low-flow showerhead.

The goal of the campaign is to get people to eat lunches that don’t include meat, fish, eggs or dairy products. Of course, that means any plant-based meal would work the same way as a PB&J. That makes it work even for those families who have a child with a food allergy. In my household, we particularly like humus with cucumber slices as well as tabouli. (As well as PB, of course, as you can see by this snapshot of Pumpkin gobbling a slice of whole wheat smeared with the sticky stuff.)

For those of us who can eat nuts without any side effects except too many calories, PB&J does seem like a friendly food to market as an alternative to the meat-based lunch. If you’re looking for a fun alternative to the traditional PJ&B, you can get some inspiration from the folks at Peanut Butter & Co. in Manhattan. When my husband and I visited their restaurant in Greenwich Village (at 240 Sullivan St.), several years back, we had a lot of fun trying unusual sandwich combinations with peanut butter. Since then, the company has started marketing jars of its peanut butter in stores, so you can try flavors like Mighty Maple, Dark Chocolate Dreams or Cinammon Raisin at home.

What do you think: Are you ready to sink your teeth into gooey goodness to help the Earth?

There are only so many memorable moments in a child’s life, and only so many “firsts:” The first time mastering a two-wheeler, the first fireworks display, the first time on a plane, and so on. The hardest part of being a dual-custody parent is losing some of these moments. The child’s time — and thereby, his firsts — are routinely divided between the two parents.

My ex and I generally break even in that regard, since our custody situation is a 50-50 split. But how many moments have I lost out on? I got the first trip to Disney World and his first pro baseball game; She got his first trip overseas and, last month, his first visit to Niagara Falls, which, while it’s no Disney World, was a huge success with our son. And there are other, smaller moments that I’ve been able to share with him: I took him to his first rock concert and made it to his school talent show, where he played Black Sabbath’s “Iron Man” on guitar. My ex has her share of those moments she was able to share with him.

This whole concept came up on our recent vacation, when my girlfriend stood back and observed as her little boy, clutched to her own mother, watched the July 4th fireworks display overhead down in the Carolinas. At 4, it wasn’t his first view of fireworks, but it was certainly a memorable moment. He covered his ears and looked up with a mixture of wonderment and fear. She later told me that she was hit with the notion in that instance that she was missing that moment, so she walked over to her mom and asked to hold her boy. She both soothed him and shared the display with him for the remainder of the show. It was a shared moment she’ll certainly remember, as will he. And it made us think of the firsts and the moments we’ll inevitably miss with both our boys.

Ultimately, the boys benefit from having the experience at all, whether it’s with their mom or their dad. That’s comforting. But it carries a tinge of sadness, that there are times when we won’t be the ones to share the memory. It makes me hope that those parents out there who share all those moment appreciate the value of it.

For me, there’s no doubt how much it’s worth.

What is up with these backpacks that are so heavy that kids are being weighed down like mountaineers? At the risk of sounding like someone who should be leaning on a walker and eating dinner at 4 p.m., I’d like to point out that when I was a kid, we didn’t even carry backpacks! Somehow I managed to bring home all the materials I needed to do my homework without looking like I was ready to hike the Himalayas.

This is on my mind because it’s the time of year when, once again, the obligatory warnings about the dangers of the weight of these things are coming out. Consumer Reports, which is published in Yonkers, is way ahead on this issue. In their research, they found some sixth graders carried 18.4 pounds in the backpacks — about 17.2 percent of their body weight. Consumer Reports recommends staying closer to 10 percent of body weight.

What is in these backpacks, anyway? Pumpkin is several years away from homework assignments and all they entail, so I’m operating without first-hand knowledge. But I ask you other parents: Do kids really need to carry every book home, every night? Is that what makes up the load? Or, are your kids carrying mini survival kits on their backs? I know my daughter, given her druthers, would bring half the contents of her room with her in the car every time we leave the house for a half hour. So far, we’ve managed to keep it down to her Elmo doll (sometimes two Elmo dolls), a book, her sippy cup, a baggie of Annie’s Homegrown Chocolate Bunny Grahams and her purple blanket. Are your third-graders carrying their own equivalent of this in their packs? Is that why they are so heavy?

If you are buying a new backpack this fall, Consumer Reports recommends looking for these features:

• Shoulder straps that are contoured and padded to soften the load of the pack on a child’s back.

• A waist belt to stabilize the pack and transfer weight to the hips.

• A padded or quilted back or one with mesh fabric to make the bag less sweaty on steamy days.

• Compression straps on the sides of the pack to tighten a partially-filled backpack.

• Reflective trim on the back and sides of the pack to add visibility in the fall and winter months, when kids may travel to and from school in near darkness.

Here is the special section on back-to-school at Consumer Reports.

I’m thinking about writing a story about the growth in backpack sales and how these have become a must-have back-to-school item. If anyone would like to lend their insight to the story, send me an e-mail at jalterio@lohud.com or call me at 914-666-6189.

Otherwise, comment here about what the heck is in your kids’ backpacks — unless you’ve been afraid to look!

If you’re anything like me, it’s easy to slip into habits when it comes to holidays. Warm-weather holidays mean cookouts with classic rock in the background; cold-weather holidays mean big meals indoors, music optional. Now I’m all for celebrating with food and family, but at a certain point the holidays can seem interchangeable, so long as you don’t confuse the summer ones with the winter ones.

I wanted a different Fourth of July this year, both for me and my immediate family. Instead of visiting my brother’s house for a cookout, why not connect directly to the meaning of Independence Day? It would be educational and inspirational! With my 18-year-old son away for the week and my wife in agreement, I only needed to get my 13-year-old on board. I’ll get to the bottom line: he insisted he wasn’t going. And he wasn’t moved when I said he would always remember the walking tour of “Revolutionary New York,” but wouldn’t remember just hanging out at home (nice try, right?)

Faced with an immovable child, what should we do? We declared our own independence and went on the tour without him. Run by Big Onion Tours, the walk was fun and I learned things about Revolutionary New York that I didn’t know.

(Here’s one piece of Revolutionary lure, followed by book tip for more on Revolutionary New York: Inside City Hall Park, visible from Broadway, stands a tall flagpole that’s wrapped in a series of metal bands. What is it? A Liberty Pole, like the one that the anti-British Sons of Liberty installed on the site as a sign of defiance. After British troops repeatedly chopped the pole down, the Sons of Liberty wrapped a new one in iron for protection. For a deeper look at the Revolution in New York, check out The Battle for New York by Barnet Schecter. You may be amazed at New York’s role during the Revolution.

My son survived July Fourth. He watched a movie on DVD for the several hours we were gone. He wasn’t angry when we returned and later we told him about the tour. After dinner we went up on the roof and watched fireworks. What do you think, were we bad parents?

What is your family’s unique way of celebrating the Fourth of July? For us, it’s a special day in more ways than one. Three years ago tomorrow, we brought Pumpkin home from the hospital — nine weeks to the day after she was born. So for us, it’s not just our nation’s independence we’re celebrating, but Pumpkin’s independence from the NICU. That said, I hope to start teaching her about the larger meaning of the holiday and why we are grateful to be living here in America. If you’re looking for ideas for family activities, here is a link to the Wikipedia entry on Independence Day. Here is the Declaration of Independence at the National Archives. Every year, National Public Radio offers an audio reading of the declaration. Here is a link to last year’s recital.

Like most kids, Pumpkin is far from immune to the joys of ice cream. This has always been fine with me. She doesn’t drink enough milk to begin with, and we’ve always tried to find ways to get extra healthy calories in her slender body. But this year, she has discovered the pleasure of a dubious treat: Ice cream bars, or as we call them in our house, “ice cream on a stick.”

This obsession started in April when I bought her an eclair-style ice cream bar on a whim after an energetic workout at Reis Park in Somers. There is always an ice cream truck parked near the playground there in the warm weather. Well, the tastiness of the treat and the novelty of visiting the truck and eating the ice cream in the car on the way home made quite the impression. And, if that wasn’t enough, she started asking us to read a cute little board book we have at home that’s shaped like an ice cream truck (before this, she didn’t quite get the point of the book).

Now, every time we go to Reis Park, Pumpkin begs for “ice cream on a stick.” Apart from the outrageous cost — $3 a bar — the fact is that these treats are far from ideal nutrionally. Back when she was content with the now-boring ice cream in dish, I bought all-natural ice cream that had ingredients I recognized. But just look at this list from the Good Humor Chocolate Eclair:

INGREDIENTS: ICE CREAM: NONFAT MILK, SUGAR, MILKFAT, CORN SYRUP, HIGH FRUCTOSE CORN SYRUP, WHEY, MONO- AND DIGLYCERIDES, CELLULOSE GUM, GUAR GUM, POLYSORBATE 65 AND 80, CARRAGEENAN, ARTIFICIAL AND NATURAL FLAVORS. CHOCOLATE CORE: WATER, CORN SYRUP, SUGAR, COCOA (PROCESSED WITH ALKALI), MODIFIED SOY PROTEIN, GUAR GUM, MODIFIED CELLULOSE, LOCUST BEAN GUM, POLYSORBATE 80. COATING: CAKE CRUNCH [BLEACHED WHEAT FLOUR, SUGAR, PALM OIL, SALT, SOY LECITHIN, NATURAL AND ARTIFICIAL FLAVORS, BAKING SODA], SOYBEAN OIL, COCONUT OIL, SUGAR, CHOCOLATE LIQUOR, DRY WHOLE MILK, SOY LECITHIN, SALT, ARTIFICIAL FLAVOR.

This does NOT make me happy. I pay more for organic milk and cheese. I buy natural eggs. We eat only whole wheat bread and whole-grain pancakes. I belong to a food co-op. But all of these strategies to avoid the overprocessed packaged foods at the supermarket are done in by the appeal of the ice cream on a stick.

Here is my question: Has anyone ever seen a “healthy” version of an ice cream bar? I did some nosing on the Web and found one company called Mister Cookie Face in Lakewood, N.J., that makes organic novelties under the Woodlake Farms brand. But I’ve never seen them in local stores.

What do the rest of you parents do when it comes to dubious treats like these? And, before you all point out the obvious: Yes, I realize she is 3 years old. No, she doesn’t have her own money. Yes, I do in fact buy these for her. And, no, she couldn’t get them on her own. What, you say? Just stop? Well, it would take a tougher parent than I am to say no to her calls for “ice cream on a stick.” She just loves them too much. My goal is to find a manufacturer who makes these with, oh, let’s say five ingredients total, including milk, cream, sugar and chocolate — and without high fructose corn syrup.

Since we’re on the topic of ice cream, I thought you all might enjoy some links I found in my research. Here is a discussion of the history of ice cream, which has been enjoyed in this country since the days of George Washington and Thomas Jefferson — making it an especially fitting treat for the upcoming Fourth of July holiday. And here is a link to an article in the National Archives on the origins of Good Humor and Popsicle novelties, originally called “ice cream suckers” and billed as a more convenient way to eat ice cream. Pumpkin would certainly agree.

Sunday night, my husband and I spent about four hours at the emergency room of Northern Westchester Hospital in Mount Kisco to rule out appendicitis as the cause of the severe abdominal pains he had been experiencing. (He’s OK. Just sick.) We were there from about 9:45 p.m. until about 2 a.m., thankfully without the Pumpkin. That’s because when we spoke to the doctor on the phone, and she told us to go to the emergency room, I called my mom and said, “Can you come?” And, of course, she agreed. My mom moved to this area the year my daughter was born, first living with us while she looked for a place of her own and now renting an apartment. It has been unremittingly wonderful for us. My mom takes care of Pumpkin while I work — which is why I was able to keep my job after my daughter was born. If I hadn’t had my mom, I would have quit because I couldn’t have imagined putting my tiny little preemie in day care. The best part is I have every confidence that Pumpkin is in hands that are almost as loving as mine. The second best part is that my daughter is forming a relationship with her grandmother, not a stranger. But for my mom, there have been significant sacrifices. She left behind friends in Niagara Falls, her bowling league and the city she lived in for 70-plus years. She also left behind an affordable lifestyle. Her rent is double what she would pay in Niagara Falls — and takes almost half of her pension and Social Security every month.

My thankfulness for her presence in my life really came alive last night during the crisis. While I am always grateful when she throws a load of my laundry in the wash, it’s the willingness of a parent to drop everything and come running that makes them so special. I feel for the families who don’t have extended family nearby. Imagine a 3-year-old spending four hours plus in an ER? Yikes. But if my mom were still living in Niagara Falls, we would have had no choice but to bring Pumpkin. It must be even more challenging for single parents without family nearby. What if you are the patient? How can you expect the ER nurse to be a babysitter?

I’d like to invite Parents’ Place readers to share their own stories of events where your parents helped you out of a crisis — and to share how you coped if your mom and dad don’t live nearby or aren’t with you any longer.

Here’s a milestone: Pumpkin just discovered the suffix. Now, instead of saying something is “big, big,” to add emphasis, she can now say that it’s bigg-er. Other things are long-er. She feels happi-er. It’s a neat feat to witness. And a bit of a “told you so” to a pediatrician who scoffed that a couple of months wouldn’t make a difference in Pumpkin’s speech abilities. All around, we’re hearing a lot more full sentences and combinations with vocabulary I didn’t even know she possessed.

I bring all this up because I think parents shouldn’t devalue their own knowledge of their child just because an authority figure, like a doctor, has a conflicting point of view. As I mentioned in an earlier post, I saw a similar speech blossoming last year after Pumpkin passed her second due-date “birthday.” Now, as my growing preemie approaches her third due-date “birthday,” she is having another burst of speech development.

I would invite you to share your own tales of times where mom or dad were right — counter to the prevailing wisdom. (I’m thinking this could apply to anything from advice to hold back or move a child up a grade to whether to continue or discontinue lessons.)

The stereotype suggests that dads are great for playing ball with the kids, but are reluctant to change diapers. It suggests that the more “manly” parenting duties are left to dads, while the more “nurturing” tasks fall on moms. Well, a single dad has to assume both roles, just as single moms find themselves having a catch with the kids on the front lawn. But how reluctant are some single dads to assume the more traditional mothering tasks?

I came across an excerpt on this issue on the home page of the Dr. Spock Company, a group of parenting and child care experts who subscribe to the philosophies of the late uber-pediatrician Dr. Benjamin Spock. Here’s what they wrote on this:

“Everything I’ve said about a mother raising a child alone applies to a father raising a child alone. But often there’s an additional problem. Few fathers in our society feel completely comfortable in a nurturing role. Many men have been brought up believing that being a nurturing person is “soft” and therefore feminine. So, many fathers will find it hard, at least at first, to provide the gentle comforting and cuddling that children need, especially young children. But, with time and experience, they can certainly rise to the task.”

Personally, I’ve never worried about societal stereotypes as a father, and changed plenty of diapers while I was still married. I’ve also always been very warm with my son, and we exchange “I love yous” on a regular basis — something I never got enough of from my own dad. But I have to wonder if I’d feel limited in what I could offer as a parent if I had a daughter. And, generally, I feel there’s more acceptance of a mom playing catch with her son than there is for a dad braiding his daughter’s hair.

The issue is somewhat moot for me now, since I am building a blended family and we have both a father and a mother figure in the house. But I know my girlfriend worried early on that her little boy lacked male role models, as his time with his father was limited. And as a divorced dad, it was something I dealt with when I was single. For instance, when boys reach a certain age their dads seem reluctant to hold their hands while they’re out: Moms do it as a matter of habit.

The wisdom of Dr. Spock suggests that, with time, dads can learn to provide the additional nurturing children need. But is there a line that even the most nurturing dads won’t cross, whether it’s holding hands with an older son or shopping for an American Doll with a daughter? And as for societal stereotypes, what is your reaction if you see a dad holding a 12-year-old son’s hand at the mall?