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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 knew it would start sooner or later. It still stinks.

On Wednesday, I drove my son to school and, as is our norm, I parked in the lot and we walked into the building together. This has been something of a routine when he’s with me that we’ve done since pre-K, through various school buildings. In past, we’ve chatted a bit, joked with each other and I’ve waited with him until the bell rang and he had to get to class.

This time, he walked in ahead of me, and started talking to some friends, seemingly oblivious to my presence. I called out to him, he looked, I said, “bye?” He replied by sheepishly giving an unenthusiastic wave, clearly embarrassed. So I left, heart wounded.

I’ve always known there would come a time when he’d not want to have his dad there when he was with friends. I figured it out early on, in kindergarten, when he first asked me not to hug him goodbye in front of his classmates. I understood.

But somehow this got to me a bit. Probably that’s because it’s an indication of things to come, the years ahead when he will spend more and more time out with friends than at home playing X-Box or watching a movie with is dad, or out at the park playing ball or sled riding in the winter with his old man.

Obviously, it has to be that way, and it should be that way.

But for now, it just stinks.

I’m working on the computer, and Pumpkin comes over to me for a little visit. When she opens her mouth to talk, I see her tongue is kind of a blue-green. I ask her to stick out her tongue to get a better look, and wow, it’s really pretty colorful. I then say: “What did you eat?” Pumpkin: “Play-Doh.” I say: “Show me.” She takes me by the hand and into the kitchen, where my mom is chopping vegetables for dinner and had set up Pumpkin at the table to amuse herself with Play-Doh in the meantime. Sure enough, there’s a big chunk of blue-green Play-Doh on the table. I ask: “How much did you eat?” Pumpkin: “Big! Big!” I look at the box and read labels warning that Play-Doh is not a food, but conversely, is also nontoxic. Feeling somewhat reassured, I give a little lecture on Play-Doh’s lack of desirability as a culinary experiment.

Later tonight, Pumpkin’s cheeks are looking really, really rosy and her upper lip looks a little swollen. Maybe it’s just the effect of the half-hour walk we took in the chilly late-afternoon air? Or, maybe, it’s the Play-Doh and some kind of allergic reaction? I Google “Poison Control Hotline” and get the number: 1-800-222-1222. (I think I’ll memorize it, now.) My husband talks to the nice lady and she assures us that Play-Doh is not a hazard, especially if our daughter has been eating and drinking, which she has. She’s asleep upstairs now, and her Play-Doh adventure is hopefully over. (Interestingly enough, the frequently asked questions, or FAQ, section on the Play-Doh Web site does NOT include the question: “What do I do if my child eats Play-Doh?” Although, it does include the information that Play-Doh is “primarily a mixture of water, salt and flour.”)

Even though eating Play-Doh isn’t harmful, this experience was a surprise for me because I thought Pumpkin knew better. She’s 2 and a half, and well past the oral stage. I thought she could distinguish between food and, well, everything else. It makes me aware that I have to be even more vigilant. And, of course, no more Play-Doh with lax supervision.

What have your kids eaten that gave you the shudders?

So, I did it. I made a play date for today with a neighbor down the block who has a really cute 18-month-old son named Ethan. This might not seem remarkable to people who know me well and think of me as pretty outgoing, but the fact is: I have been very shy when it comes to making playmates. Pumpkin and I can count on one hand the number of play dates we’d had so far — OK, to be perfectly honest — two fingers. (And yes, I feel very guilty about this.) But there’s something about asking another mom if she wants to get together that brings out the insecure junior high school kid in me. After all, at this age, it’s not like I’m dropping Pumpkin off at the curb. A play date means the mom has to spend the time with me. “But, you’re a reporter! You should be good at talking to people!” I can hear you saying this. And, it’s true, I can pretty much walk up to anyone and interview them. But, the thing is, I don’t know if these skills carry over into the world of women’s friendships. (It doesn’t help when your play date skills get rejected. After one play date that I thought was successful, I didn’t get a second invite.)

Despite this, I got bold about today because we’re going to do something very active together — taking the kids to Leapin’ Lizards in Port Chester. Also, we won’t be tête-à-tête because it turns out Ethan already had a play date today and his buddy (and mom) will be coming along, too. Between the chaos of keeping track of three toddlers at the giant indoor play center, I think we’ll all have a good time.

I bring this topic up because I think about how much a parent’s social skills affect their children’s lives. Growing up, my mom worked, so she was never the classroom mom. She wasn’t a big joiner, either, so we didn’t have a network of community contacts. Looking back, it would have been kind of nice to have a mom involved in the school, sitting in the back of the table at bake sales, hanging around the auditorium during school plays, etc. I aspire to be that kind of mom for my daughter, but then I think to myself, “You can’t even arrange a play date without getting the willies!”

What about the rest of you parents? Are you rolling your eyes and saying, “Get over it!” Or, have you had similar qualms? Those of you with active play date schedules: How do you do it? Do you just say to a friendly face at library story hour: “Say, do you want to get these two hooligans together sometime?” Or what?

I think it’s time to blog on this: Too many snow days.

As I hear it, everyone seems to agree that school districts order snow days — or delayed openings, as was the case today in my son’s district — much more frequently than when we were kids. It’s certainly my experience. Or is it simply my perception?

My neighbor, who is from the Czech Republic, laughed off today’s delay, noting that when he was a kid back home there would be a foot of snow on the ground and all the kids would pray that school would close. He says it happened once that he can remember.

In my own youth, I certainly remember walking to school amid snow banks with snow falling. In recent years, including the harsh winter of 2004, it became an issue, with district worrying about making up school time because of all the snow days. I stumbled upon this story from cnn.com about one superintendent’s dilemma with it, and the fallout he endured.

But I couldn’t find a viable database that tracks the number of snow days per year. I thought this would end the debate once and for all, and determine whether schools are wimpier these days or whether it’s just our perception. One newspaper in Michigan took to the web last month and conducted a reader poll on the subject. Not exactly scientific, but it does make for some interesting results.

Of course, I’m not bringing this up with my son. Nothing a kid loves more than a snow day. It’s a hassle for us grown-ups, dealing with work and what to do with the kids and, particularly as a single parent, negotiating with the ex to reach a compromise on who takes time off, who doesn’t, whose turn it is to do so, etc. The big winner is always my son, who gets a day off. I just hope he remembers how good he had it as a kid.

No, not the kind we need as parents. We’ve all had a crash course in that if we have kids. I mean getting your children to be patient in impatient situations. Like, the long lines at Disneyworld.

In this case it was the long lines at the Holiday Train Show at the New York Botanical Garden. We took the boys there last weekend for the show, which ends this weekend if you want to check it out. It was an awesome display which the kids loved — after a 90-minute wait on line because of obviously poor planning and management by the folks in charge.

Needless to say, we had a 3-year-old and a 10-year-old in tow, so it required some creative time management. Since there were two adults, we were able to split time between standing on line and taking the kids to run around somewhere or other. But this would’ve been a remarkably more trying situation for a single parent with no partner. I went through this a few years ago when I took by son to Disneyworld and the waits became difficult for him, and understandably so.

These days, I’m fortunate to have my girlfriend in the picture (add “line marker” to her lists of attributes). But it still leaves the question of managing patience in children in an impatient situation. The University of Pittsburgh Medical Center has one of many sites out there that discusses how to teach children patience.

Obviously, the article focuses on more significant benefits to teaching patience than just managing a child while you’re on a dreadfully long line. Those are, of course, valuable to successful parenting, and having patience during a long wait is much more mundane. But I was most struck by the suggestion that kept coming up as I was doing some research for this posting: Start by being patient yourself. To be honest, patience isn’t exactly my strength. And maybe I should teach myself first.

Besides, watching the kids roll down the hill during my time as “line marker” looked kinda fun.

I don’t remember the last time I saw my oldest son cry. I didn’t actually see him cry yesterday when his high school basketball team lost by two points.

After the small crowd had gone home and only the two teams and the score keepers remained, I looked across the court to see my son’s face buried in his hands. Then he pulled his jersey over his face as several of his team mates attempted to console him.

It had been a tough loss. His team had fought back after trailing by at least 13 points only to lose by by two. It hadn’t been his best game. He still hadn’t recovered from a torn rotator cuff suffered at the start of the season. He had scored and rebounded some, but it was his hustle yesterday that I really admired  - playing defense, wrestling for the ball while sprawled on the court, and  late in the game getting an opponents’ foul shot nullified when a player on the other team had stepped over the line too soon during a foul shot.

But with one second on the clock and his team down by two points, my son, who is 17,  was on the foul line to shoot two. If he hit both,  his team just might win its first game of the season.

The first shot bounced off the rim. So did the second.

I could guess how he felt. His teamates had named him team captain after he had led them last year in scoring, rebounding and foul shooting. But this day the shots did not go. He had let his team down and he had let himself down.

I walked across the court to him and rubbed his back and head. I told him it was OK, and that he had played a good tough game, but I don’t think he was buying it. Only after the coach had called him a second time for the post-game meeting did the jersey come down from his face.

Later I tried to figure out what I would say to him. I felt badly for him. The loss and his missed shots hurt. What could I say? But I had another feeling that I couldn’t quite place. Finally I knew what it was and what I would say – I was proud of him.

We talked after dinner last night, just the two of us, and it was the closest I had been to this stubbornly independent boy in a while. Maybe we did manage a win of sorts yesterday.

Okay, this is way premature: My son is just 10.

But I’ve always accepted that my time with him is limited. We buddy around now and go on treks together, share movies and even joust in X-Box contests now and again. But what happens when he hits the teen years? That’s when dad has to drop him off around the corner so his friends won’t see him with me. It’s inevitable, isn’t it?

This came to mind this week when a colleague of mine told me the latest news about his 15-year-old. Both our sons take guitar lessons and fool around with the six-strings, so we’re always checking in on their progress. This week he tells me his boy has turned in his guitar for text-messaging. In other words, he has a girlfriend.

Now, my girlfriend’s 3-year-old has a girlfriend too. Of course, in pre-K it’s a slightly different dynamic. My son is in fifth grade, and had his first kiss in kindergarten. He has had a girl or two chasing him over the years. He’s still at that age where he blushes at the mere mention of that first kiss, but two girls in particular always come up year after year.

Anyway, the girlfriend isn’t even the ultimate point. It’s more a matter of losing some part of that father-son bond when my boy hits the teens. I know of cases where it hasn’t worked that way, but a lot more where it has. For instance, I have one cousin who remained close with her boys during those years, largely by staying current on the latest video games and playing with them frequently. Another cousin left home early in his teen years due to his inability to relate in any way to his parents.

Will my son be one or the other extreme? Or somewhere in the middle? I bring this up to him now and again, and he tells me that’ll never happen. He’ll always be my buddy. God bless his little heart for saying so.

But, as much as it as a rite of passage of sorts, I do dread it. I mean, isn’t it just a matter of time?

The holidays were a success at my place, with tons of food, lots of smiles and two spoiled kids. In fact, the boys each got more presents than I probably got my entire childhood. As I’m sure is the case with most single parent homes, my son had a stack of presents at our place, and another stack waiting at his mom’s house, where he went at the end of the day on Christmas Day so he could open some presents with is stepbrother.

The value to all this, of course, is that both our boys were able to have a happy and fulfilling Christmas despite having non-traditional homes. Our Christmas morning brunch included both my ex and my girlfriend’s ex, with the added treat for her boy that his grandparents were in from out of town and shared the day with us.

And despite all our efforts and all the feelers we put out there, my son continues to tease us and keep us guessing about his understanding — or lack of — the Santa myth. He proclaimed, tongue in cheek, that Christmas is “60 percent excellent presents from Santa, 39 percent lousy gifts from your parents, and 1 percent egg nog.”

So I think he might be playing us, the little wise guy. Who cares in the end.

Anyway, I hope all had a great time over the holidays, regardless of what it is you celebrate. And I hope most of all that the children enjoyed their inclusion in it. I would love to hear some recaps.

Today I have a full day off with my Pumpkin. Just mama and baby. I cannot remember the last time it was just the two of us for a full day. Despite all the holiday chores I have to do, from wrapping gifts to cooking to cleaning the house to some last-minute shopping, I’m going to try and spend most of the day just playing with my little girl. It’s something I don’t do often enough. The week seems to fly by with work and chores, and often on the weekend we have a family activity planned. Sometimes, a week or more will go by and I’ll realize I haven’t just sat on the floor and played without trying to do something else at the same time. I think we’ll start the day with chocolate-chip pancakes, then do some drawing with crayons and maybe take a walk outside if it’s nice. I won’t even turn on this computer until she’s napping — and maybe not even then!

When was the last time you had a day to spend with your child that didn’t also involve chores or errands or busy activities with other family members? And what did you do?

I spent years making sure my foot wasn’t hanging off the edge of the bed at night. I knew if I slipped and dangled my foot, the monster under the bed would take a bite out of it. And occasionally there was a shadow in the corner that just didn’t look right.

Most of us had similar fears as kids. I remember seeing the “horse head scene” from The Godfather as a kid. Shame on my parents for letting me anywhere near that movie at a young age, by the way. Anyway, I became convinced someone was going to cut off my parakeets’ heads and stick them under my blanket. The result was that I wrapped myself up like a mummy every night for months, making sure not to leave any gaps where the tiny heads could be slipped in while I was snoozing.

It’s silly and funny now, of course. But all kids develop some fears. My son went through a period where he was afraid of the dark, and my girlfriend’s 3-year-old is still immersed in it. My son, at 10, is going through a patch of it again now, only because he read a computer game review online where some teenager wrote a joke entry that instead spooks younger kids by convincing them that the game triggers some killer monster that sneaks up on you when you’re alone. Sick joke.

As a single parent, you tend to have additional issues that breed these fears, since there is separation anxiety and other issues that are magnified in divorced and separated homes.

I found some useful online literature on this at the Child Care Aware website, which you regular readers probably know I’ve used as a reference in the past. They put together a very concise and helpful two-part article online on this very topic. I think it helps parents to understand the issues at play when kids express or show fear.

The first installment outlines some common fears children display after age two, when the behavior tends to begin materializing in children. The important thing to realize as you read through this is that common fears in children are just that: Common.

The second part addresses ways to cope and alleviate these fears.

To me, it’s part of growing up. But all of us have the instinct to make our children feel better, and that includes assuring them all is okay when they display fear. I remember when we watched the animated movie Monsters Inc. that I found it a positive experience for my son because it poked fun at the childhood fear of the monster in the closet. Plus, the monsters were lovable and, ultimately, well-meaning. Now I wonder if the monsters under the bed are just as cuddly.

My girlfriend’s 3-year-old burst into tears this morning as I was about to take him to pre-K. When I asked him why he was crying, he said because he wanted Santa Claus to bring him presents. He knows Santa will show up while we’re all sleeping and deliver a bundle of toys for him to pay with. It’s just that, at his age, the notion that Christmas is still several weeks away is hazy, and he thought it would happen this morning and the next. I assured him Santa would come. But it reminded me of how beautiful that is for a child, and it struck me how he and my own son, who turns 10 on Saturday, are at such varying ends of the Santa myth.

I think it’s pretty obvious the cat is out of the hat for my son by now. He seems to be at the point where he knows the scoop on Santa, but figures he’d better not ‘fess up or there’ll be no presents. It’s sad to me, because nothing can ever replace the look on a child’s face on Christmas morning when the presents are “magically” there under the tree.

So I need to have the Santa Claus conversation with my son this weekend. First of all, I want to make sure he doesn’t ruin it for the younger boy. But I also want to bring my son up to speed on the whole Santa myth and its origins. Santa Claus is based on Saint Nicholas of Myra, a benevolent 4th Century man of the cloth who shared his inheritance with the needy through anonymous gifts. Legend has it that after he died locals would put out food for the saint and straw for his donkey, which St. Nick would turn into toys and treats. That’s kinda cool in its own right, and a pretty good tradition.

Corny as it sounds, I like to think that there is still some magic involved, and there’s an inherent beauty in Christmas that, to me, overshadows the ridiculous marketing blitz that has become part of the holiday season. I remain fond of the legendary 1897 column by New York Sun writer Francis Pharcellus Church, famously titled, Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus, and expect that the discussion with my son will start with a reading of it. We will talk about the “Dear Santa” letter we’ll be picking up from the post office, and discuss some charity work to aid the less fortunate.

So, the Santa myth will continue for my son, even if the secret is out. Then we can all sit back and marvel at the look of wonderment on the 3-year-old’s face, and the magic he believes in — for now. Let’s hope it lasts.

Thank God for CVS pharmacy and its themed displays, or I might never know what holiday was up next. And since the Christmas decorations are already up, I gather we’re skipping Thanksgiving this year. In fact, there were a few Christmas trees on display at a few local department stores before Halloween even rolled around this year.

Well, not to skip over Thanksgiving, but I’ve had my first discussion with my ex over splitting the Christmas presents for my son, so it must be time to start thinking ahead. This is complicated by the fact that his birthday is at the end of this month. He does love books, so there’ll be a dose of those. And he’s rediscovered Hot Wheels cars recently, so there’ll be some of that.

But I’m hearing from some fellow parents that it might be a good time to consider a few alternatives, particularly since a few that I’ve spoken to are seriously concerned about buying toys this year given the seemingly never-ending list of recalls. Obviously, you can select safe toys if you pay attention to recall lists, which many toy stores have available.

Still, I’ve heard some alternative suggestions. Homemade toys are a good idea, and, for older kids, donating to charity in their name is a worthy gift. Or consider tickets to an upcoming holiday event, such as Willy Wonka at the Tarrytown Music Hall. Or a candlelight tour at historic Philipsburgh Manor in Sleepy Hollow. The New York Botanical Gardens in the Bronx has several events, including the Gingerbread Adventures and the Holiday Train Show.

If all works out, I’m hoping to include tickets for one of the above in the kids’ stockings this year, although the ability to plan ahead has never been one of my strongest assets. I’d also like to check out the Westchester Toy & Train Christmas Show at the Westchester County Center, which has a lengthy list of upcoming events. Of course, that’s on Dec. 9, well before the holidays. So I’m thinking it might be a good place to get gift ideas. Besides, I think the cat’s out of the bag on the Santa thing by now. Then again, that’s a blog for another day.

Toy Linked to ‘Date-Rape’ Drug Joins List of Recalls

By Oliver Staley and Ryan Flinn – Nov. 8 (Bloomberg News) — A Chinese-made toy containing a chemical linked to the so-called date-rape drug was recalled yesterday after two children fell ill. It is the latest in a series of warnings that has led to more than 21 million toys getting pulled from store shelves before the U.S. holiday shopping season.
Aqua Dots, which features small beads that bond with water, are made with a chemical the body converts to gamma-hydroxy butyrate, commonly known as the date-rape drug. Two children in the U.S. who swallowed the beads became comatose, the U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission said in a statement.
The recall of the Aqua Dots, distributed by Toronto-based Spin Master Ltd., follows the withdrawal of millions of toys, vitamins and consumer products made in China over concerns about high-levels of lead and other chemicals. Consumer fears about harmful toys may affect holiday spending, with 35 percent of shoppers believing that products made outside the U.S. are not safe, according to a Nov. 1 study by Deloitte & Touche LLP.
Also today, Marvel Entertainment Inc. said it was voluntarily recalling 110,000 Curious George dolls after tests revealed lead levels that exceeded federal limits. On Nov. 6, Mattel Inc. asked consumers to stop using 196,000 kitchen toys made in Mexico because small pieces may pose a choking hazard to children.
Recalls for Lead
Mattel, the world’s largest toymaker, has issued several recalls this year, primarily because the products contained excessive lead paint or had loose magnets that might detach and be swallowed.
Spin Master said in a statement last night that more than 60 percent of the 4.2 million Aqua Dots units covered by the recall hadn’t reached consumers.
Aqua Dots contain 1,4-butanediol, an industrial solvent that the body converts to gamma-hydroxy butyrate, according to the U.S. Food and Drug Administration’s Web site.
The toys were produced by Melbourne-based Moose Enterprise Pty., Spin Master said.
The product, which is labeled Bindeez outside the U.S., sickened two Australian children as well, Melbourne’s Herald Sun newspaper reported Nov. 6.

If you’ve ever wondered what the world looks like through a toddler’s eyes, check out this blog post by Matt Zoller Seitz. Matt gave his 3-year-old a disposable camera and stood back as his son captured photos of life from his perspective. This post will make you run out and get your kid a camera.