When my son was just a few months old, our pediatrician promised he’d be sleeping through the night by the time he was 6-months old.

Okay maybe she didn’t promise. But we should have had her define ‘through the night’. His version is nothing like what we were led to believe.

Now 13 months, he goes to bed between 6 and 7 pm, depending on how many times he interrupts his bottle or book reading to march back and forth across his room waving a piece of paper, or a block, or his teddy bear or whatever else is at hand. 

When he finally has enough milk, one of four things happens: the bottle is finished and he has fallen asleep and we put him in the crib; the bottle is finished, he pushes it away and goes off on another marchfest; the bottle isn’t finished but he’s asleep and we put him in the crib; the bottle isn’t finished, he pushes it away and goes off on another marchfest. 

Options 1 and 3, we love. Options 2 and 4 usually extend bedtime by 30 to 45 minutes. But its OK. He’s adorable and usually in good spirits at this point. 

He routinely wakes up after that sometime between 10 and midnight. 

There is nothing cuter than the half-asleep pose he assumes sitting there in a corner of his crib. There is nothing more frustrating than not knowing what it is he wants since he’s not talking to us yet (I mean, he’s talking but we have no idea what he’s saying). Sometimes, it takes another bottle, sometimes a diaper change, sometimes a walk around the apartment in the stroller. 

I’ve heard people put their young kids into the car and drive around the block a few times. I live in Manhattan. I’ll do anything for my son short of give up a parking spot.

Getting back to ‘through the night’, the hardest part is when he wakes up for good, usually between 4 and 5 in the morning. Through the night should mean ‘until it’s light out’ or at least when I can raise the blinds and show him something other than the bread and newspaper trucks.

When I’m really, really, really tired I put on a DVD of one of the original Sesame Street episodes, stick him in the Pack n’ Play and slink off back to bed. He usually cries for a few minutes but then gets that deer in headlights look when he’s mesmerized by a television show. 

One morning the reprieve lasted just 24 minutes. When I went to the living room to see what had happened, I realized I had put on Jack’s Big Music Show instead of Sesame Street. Lesson of that day was to always make sure to set him up with an hour-long show.

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.

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.

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.)

What if you can’t stand your child’s pediatrician?

I remember the moment my long-simmering (but still mild) dislike of my daughter’s pediatrician boiled over into actual antipathy. We were discussing Pumpkin’s milestones at her third birthday checkup when the doctor asked if she moved into a bed yet. I said no, and added that Pumpkin loves her crib and hasn’t even tried to climb out. (And this is a child who loves to climb everything else.)

The doctor’s reaction: “Most children have moved into a bed by age 2.”

My response, with an attempt at humor: “I can’t even imagine what her room would look like in the morning if she could get up whenever she wanted. Clothes and diapers would be everywhere, and she’d probably sleep on the floor or in her glider.” Said with a smile and chuckle.

The doctor’s response: “Well, she’s going to have to go into a bed eventually.” With zero (0) humor. No smile. She wasn’t trying to be funny. She was being sarcastic.

I should have replied with something like: “Oh, really? We were hoping to keep her in the crib until college to save money on a new bed and sheets.”

But that would have been the end of our doctor-parent relationship, and I am not 100 percent certain if it should be over. Now, let me say, if this was the first instance of us disagreeing, I probably would let it go, but it’s not. Just for instance, here’s another priceless exchange from the same visit:

Doctor: How much milk does she drink?

Me: About 9 ounces in the morning. She won’t drink milk later in the day, except chocolate milk, and even then, she’ll drink perhaps a half-cup. She really doesn’t like milk or even yogurt.

Doctor: She should be drinking three to four cups a day! (With a look that suggest she thinks I’m either stupid or negligent.)

Me (silently to myself): What do you want me to do? Have you ever tried to make a toddler eat or drink something they don’t want to consume? (For the record, we have this milk conversation every time we have a checkup.) Out loud, I offered that she eats cheese. To that, the doctor replied: “Doesn’t all that cheese make her constipated?” (I never said it was a lot of cheese!)

But even these disagreements — and even her sanctimonious attitude — wouldn’t get under my skin so much if there weren’t a bigger problem: She doesn’t seem to “get” that Pumpkin is a preemie.

Our first pediatrician, who was recommended by the doctors at the White Plains Hospital NICU, was terrific. He seemed to really understand the unique needs of micro-preemies like Pumpkin, who weighed just 1 pound, 13.4 ounces at birth. He was extremely cautious when it came to Pumpkin’s health. He ordered her to avoid public spaces and to stay away from all children, even her cousins, until she weighed 15 pounds. (A milestone she didn’t reach until shortly before her first birthday.) She had monthly shots of vaccine for RSV during her first winter. For you non-preemie parents, RSV (respiratory syncytial virus) is unpleasant but not an emergency. For preemies, it’s a big deal. I appreciated his personal attention. I liked the way he plotted Pumpkin’s growth on a preemie growth chart targeted to her week of gestation at birth. I was very sorry when we had to switch doctors because we switched insurance.

Our new doctor dismisses every attempt I make to talk about Pumpkin in the context of being a preemie. Last year on Pumpkin’s second birthday, she was unhappy with her speech development and suggested an evaluation, adding that we have to judge her by her birth date rather than her due date. The speech therapist disagreed and gauged Pumpkin’s development using her due date, which is a full three months later than her birth date. She turned out to be ineligible for services because although her expressive abilities lagged, her receptive speech was actually ahead of the curve. Perhaps not so amazingly, come August of last year, just after her due date birthday of July 27, Pumpkin’s speech blossomed.

So, this year again, the doctor was unhappy with Pumpkin’s speech, adding, “Most 3-year-old girls are chatterboxes, and she hasn’t talked to me at all.” Well, Pumpkin takes a while to warm up to strange people, and what kind of pediatrician judges people this way? She’s never met a shy child before? I shared the story of what happened with the evaluation last year, including the details of the speech boom in August. Her reply, given with obvious irritation: “Well, you can wait until July, but that’s only two months, and I doubt it will make a difference.”

Plus, she only charts Pumpkin’s growth on the regular chart, where her weight is in just the 10th percentile. I’d like to know how she measures up to other preemies born in her week of gestation, but I can’t find out at that pediatrician’s office. (Parents of preemies: Do you have this problem, too?)

So, what do you all think I should do. I started writing this post as a sort of “Can this doctor-parent relationship be saved?” Maybe it’s really a “Dear Joan” letter.

The hard part: How do you pick a new doctor?

Parenting books often have advice about choosing a pediatrician, suggesting that expecting parents interview potential doctors much like you are a boss hiring someone for a job. Has anyone actually done this? Are you expected to pay for the doctor’s time in these cases? Insurance sure isn’t going to cover it, and I’d be surprised if doctors are so eager for patients (especially the potentially cranky kind that demand pre-visit interviews) that they are giving their time away.

How did you choose your pediatrician? Do you like him/her? Has s/he ever said anything that made you want to wring his/her neck?

(Also: Out of curiosity: How old was your child when you moved him/her into a bed? And was it because of a new sibling? I find it hard to believe that “most children” are in their own beds by age 2!)

Some days it’s easy. Other days, well …

So, last week I bought Pumpkin her first outfit of the spring: A darling sunflower dress with cute matching shoes and sweater at babyGap. My mom bought her the matching hat and purse. The price of all this cuteness? Let’s just say more than $100. Ah, but it’s her Easter outfit, you see. That’s how I can justify it. And because we aren’t seeing the whole family for Easter this year, I’ll be able to put her in it again a month and a half later for her birthday party. Such are my rationalizations. (And, in just three springs, it’s become a tradition to buy Pumpkin’s Easter dress at babyGap.)

I know I have spent too much on Pumpkin’s clothes in the past, at least by my husband’s and mom’s measures. But I think my sin has been more in the quantity than the quality. (Does a toddler really need 14 outfits?) I think babyGap and Gymboree offer pretty reasonable prices for very well-made clothes that hold up in the wash. And I always look for sales when possible.

At least I don’t shop at Boden! That’s what got me on this topic in the first place. I have the Boden catalog in my house, and, it must be said: The clothes are just wonderful. But wow: $28 for a T-shirt for a toddler? $30 for twill shorts? I confess I am tempted by the “Fun Applique Dress,” at right, which is nearly irresistible (and nearly affordable at $38). And, I really, really don’t shop at crewcuts, where a seersucker wrap skirt is $48 and a madras dress is $78!

What are your secret shopping indulgences when it comes to your kids? And is this something unique to parents of daughters — or do moms of sons also go nuts for cute outfits for their little ones?

On a holiday shopping trip at Target in December, I just happened to look up on a high shelf and spot a really, really cute purple glitter Christmas tree that was just 2 feet tall. Purple happens to be Pumpkin’s favorite color — by far. Her room is purple, so that may be what triggered the obsession, but obsession it is.

“What color are mama’s eyes?”
“Purple.”

“What color is the sky?”
“Purple”

Me, singing: “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey.”
Pumpkin: ”… when skies are purple.”

So, the purple tree was irresistible. I thought it might be a fun novelty for the holidays. But then a wonderful thing happened. A spur-of-the-minute gift turned into a tradition. Every night before bed, we turned on the tree’s lights before reading books. Then we turned off the lamp and sang peaceful Christmas carols to the soft glow of the tree. Over the course of a month, we got used to the ritual. When it came time to put away the holiday decor, we all missed the tree.

So, I started thinking about finding another kind of light, one that would be appropriate the whole year around. Taking my cue from Pumpkin’s other obsession — cats — I found the Siamese cat lamp by Offi (pictured above) at Oompa toys.

It’s in a box waiting for Pumpkin to open tomorrow for Valentine’s Day. I am very excited to see her reaction. My only concern is that she’ll hug the lamp too much! You should have seen how crumpled the tree got!

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 know some of you, and maybe even the majority, will think I’m nuts. But here goes anyway: I feel a little bit guilty about teaching Pumpkin about Santa Claus. The thing is, Santa is a myth. But we don’t really represent him as a myth, do we? No, we do the whole story as if he is a real person. I found myself doing it this year. The night before Christmas, we picked out home-baked cookies and put them on a plate with a carrot (for Rudolph), poured a big glass of milk and explained all about the chimney, the flying reindeer, etc. Now, Pumpkin is just 2 and doesn’t have the greatest comprehension yet, but she understood this all pretty well. Well enough, in fact, that when it came time to pick out cookies for Santa, she choose to give him the ones that weren’t her favorites. She believed she was picking them out for a real person that wasn’t her — and wasn’t mama or dada. In the morning, she had a look of pretty gullible amazement on her face when we pointed out the empty milk glass, the missing and munched on cookies and the partially chomped carrot. (On the plus side, she is mixing up Santa with Elmo, who is one of the most important individuals in her life. When I asked her who her presents were from, she said, “Elmo.�)

Here is why I am uncomfortable: I am lying to her when I tell her about Santa. And my policy is honesty all the time. I don’t say we are out of cookies when I don’t want her to have any more — and I don’t let other caregivers do it, either. I just say, “No more.� I don’t make up stories about why we are or are not doing something, I show her respect and tell her the truth — in a way that’s appropriate for a toddler, of course. I just don’t believe in lying. I want to demonstrate in my words and actions that I respect her as an intelligent human being. I hope that will lead to a mutual feeling of trust that will last our whole lives together. I can’t help but wonder if the Santa myth presented as fact is a betrayal of that trust. After all, I am one of her most important sources of information about how the world works. Isn’t it wrong to abuse that power by pretending that Santa is real?

The other day, this issue of honesty came up in relation to a comment my mom made. Pumpkin had received a magnetic doodle pad for Christmas and was playing with it. My mom said something like, “How does this work? It’s magic.� I immediately protested from the next room where I was on the computer. I told my mom that I don’t want Pumpkin to think that everyday objects in her life are controlled by magic. I said to my mom, “We wouldn’t tell her the refrigerator keeps the food cold by magic, why is this any different?�

And in the same way, I feel ambivalent about perpetuating the Santa myth. What do the rest of you moms and dads think? If you have young children, do you feel at all guilty when you talk about Santa? Has anyone decided not to do the Santa deal? And if you have older kids: How did they react when they learned he isn’t real?

Yesterday, as I was leaving for work and giving my Pumpkin a squeeze goodbye, she said in the sweetest little voice, “Mama, all done bye-bye,� which translates as: “Mama, don’t go goodbye.� Now, I know it’s impossible to always heed our children’s wishes. If we did, they’d eat way too many cookies, sleep far too few hours and watch way too much Elmo on TV. But while it’s easy to dismiss Pumpkin’s demands when they would hurt her, I can’t help but feel bad about saying no to such an innocent and loving request. I, too, would like to say, “OK, mama is all done with bye-bye.� An alternative demand that she sometimes makes when I’m heading out the door is: “Me go bye-bye, mama,� which translates as “I want to go with you.� It makes me wish I could strap her on my back and take her to work with me in a modern update to the long tradition of women farmers who picked crops and tended house with their children in tow. I know that I spend more time with her than anyone else, but it never feels like enough. I find myself saying and thinking, “I miss my Pumpkin.� How about the rest of you? How do you handle the “goodbye� moment and how do you console your little ones — and yourself?

The first time is really, really cute. I rush to offer Pumpkin a choice of whatever she wants. The 100th time is still pretty cute. The 1,000th time is cute but mama’s patience is starting to falter. I’m talking, of course, about her burst of independence that makes the phrase “me pick it” very popular around our house. I hear it at the breakfast table when Pumpkin demands the option to pick out a bib for herself — and for her Elmo doll. I hear it at the changing table. I hear it when it’s time to get dressed. I hear it when it’s time to watch a Baby Einstein video. I hear it when I open a box of frozen waffles. You’re starting to get the idea.

Now, I’m not really complaining. Of course, I want my 2-year-old to want to do things for herself. And I am encouraging her first steps toward eventually making all of her own decisions (on everything from piercings to which college to attend). But wow. It really does make little jobs exhausting. The diaper routine is the most exasperating. Do we really, really need to select our own diaper every time? And does Elmo really need his own diaper, too? Apparently so. As some of you might remember, I wrote before on the blog about Pumpkin’s obsession with Elmo diapers. Well, the good folks at Pampers are still driving me crazy. We are using Cruisers these days, and most boxes come with three varieties: Elmo alone; Elmo with a friend such as Zoe or Ernie; Cookie Monster. The preferred diaper — by far — is Elmo alone. Elmo with a buddy is acceptable most of the time. But Cookie Monster is almost always rejected. (Truth be told: Pumpkin is a little scared of Cookie Monster. When the Number of the Day comes up on Sesame Street, she always jumps from my lap into my arms.) As you can imagine, by the end of the box, there are only Cookie Monster diapers left. It’s a challenge.

So, this is our phase right now. And I’m enjoying it. It’s accompanied by a burst in verbal ability. Just now, for instance, I asked Pumpkin if she wanted her ice cream on a dish and she said, “A bowl, mama.” It also comes with a exponential increase in tantrums. And “time outs” don’t seem to have much effect. To be honest, I think she enjoys being naughty. Our days seem to pass so quickly and she’s growing up so incredibly fast. I know it’s a cliché that all parents echo, but I living it is entirely different. I see in this recalcitrant toddler the feisty little tiny bundle she was as a baby.

What we’re hoping for is that the “terrible twos” are truly confined to this time frame. I am reveling in the challenges of this year expecting that next Christmas season, I’ll have a cooperative 3-year-old. Please don’t tell me I’m wrong!

It starts before our kids are born when we limit our tuna fish sandwiches to one a week and doesn’t end until … ever, I think. Keeping our children safe is job No. 1 for mom and dad. Yes, we’re supposed to teach them to read, sing, love animals and all the rest, but the most important gift we give our children is a healthy and safe childhood. In today’s world, where there seem to be weekly blasts on the news about lead in imported toys, parents can feel powerless to prevent risks to their kids — and that’s even before they get a driver’s license!

Today’s Questions & Parents feature, or Q&P for short, is with Irvington resident Jamie Schaefer-Wilson. Jamie is a child safety expert, author and consultant at Consumer Reports magazine in Yonkers. She has a long history of advocating in a wide variety of ways to keep kids safe. She co-wrote “The Baby Rules: The Insider’s Guide to Raising Your Parents,” a safety manual for parents with a humorous touch. She serves on several juvenile products committees for the American Society of Testing and Materials (ASTM International), where she advocates for safer juvenile product standards. She works with the nonprofit Kids and Cars, which is pushing for a rear visibility performance standard to prevent backovers. She has contributed to a safety column on iVillage.com and is the author of “Safety 1st’s Essential Home & Travel Childproofing Guide.” She’s also written the upcoming “The Consumer Reports Guide to Childproofing & Safety: Tips to Protect your Baby and Child from Injury at Home and on the Go,” scheduled for publication in May. In between being a safety guru, Jamie is also busy as the mother of Cydney and Samantha.

Q: Let’s start with the question on everyone’s mind these days: Can I safely buy my child a toy that’s made in China?

P: It isn’t necessarily a China problem, it is a manufacturer problem. We need better quality control, tougher import inspections and more attention to potential design flaws. Some of these problems are predictable, therefore they are preventable. There have been so many problems brought to the forefront lately from lead paint to small parts detaching and magnets falling out of toys. While we should be able to trust the toys in the marketplace, I think we all need to be tougher consumers and decide if we want to stay away from painted toys, jewelry and magnets.

Q: When the first Mattel recall was announced on Aug. 1, you feared that your child had a defective Elmo toy. Can you describe what that experience was like?

P: It was scary. It was a toy my daughter was playing with every day. It has a microphone that naturally she was always putting in her mouth and we didn’t know which portion of the toy contained the lead-based paint. I recognized the photo of the toy instantly and this particular toy was shown on several news reports. I checked the model number and was relieved that mine was purchased before the batch that had lead-based paint.

Q: Is all this focus on toys from China potentially distracting our attention from more dangerous, or even deadly, hazards?

P: No. I think people are looking more stringently at many more products now. We need to continue down this path and do a lot more questioning about all products — no matter where they are made.

Q: What are some of the hidden hazards we all have around our homes that we don’t think about?

P: We sometimes tend to overlook everyday items and things we do everyday. Take the kitchen. It is the room we are in most frequently. There are several dangers from the hot oven, water boiling on the stove or even the dishwasher. The dishwasher seems benign once the knives and forks are removed, but it is filled with spikes and if a child falls they will fall face first. Also, tipping hazards: Children tend to open several drawers at one time, sometimes causing furniture to tip onto them. It is very simple to install a tip resistant strap to furniture, and this should be installed to TV stands as well as book cases, armoires and dressers. Another danger is water hazards. Drownings are a leading cause of death every year. When your child is in the bath you need to keep him or her within arm’s reach at all times. It only takes a second for something to go wrong. The same is true of a swimming pool. Many children often slip outside unnoticed and you may not hear them fall into the pool.

Q: What are some safety tips you can share based on your own family?

P: Gates and safety locks: Those are two very important items that you should purchase and use. My 2-year-old wants to follow me everywhere and open every drawer. I feel I need eyes in the back of my head. My first daughter wasn’t as daring, but my second daughter wants to experiment with everything. I find it easier to remove and safeguard the hazards rather than take a chance. You can remove gates and locks when they are older, but the scar from an injury will be permanent.

Q: Can you tell me about any close calls you might have had?

P: When my 6-year-old was younger, we were at a restaurant and they had given us a folding high chair. The waiter opened it and we put our daughter inside, but it started to collapse the moment we placed her in the high chair. My daughter was screaming. I tried grabbing her, but she was stuck. My husband and I were pulling her and the waiter was trying to open the chair. It was very scary. Needless to say, I always check that high chairs are fully opened and locked and I now know never to take for granted that someone else may have done taken these measures.

Q: New moms often buy books on babyproofing, but what about parents of older kids? What safety worries are out there when your child reaches grade school, middle school and beyond?

P: Safety issues just change and expand as your child gets older. Child passenger safety is always at the forefront. Keeping your child in the right child-restraint seat until he or she is the right height, weight and age is one of the most important things you can do for your child. As they get older you need to focus on bicycle safety/helmet safety and stranger danger as well.

Q: What can you do if a fellow parent doesn’t take safety as seriously as you do? What if, for example, a mom doesn’t think about buckling a child into a safety seat because it’s “only a few blocks” or is casual about other risks?

P: I have had parents tell me just that: “Oh, it’s only a few blocks.â€? Most vehicle crashes happen within a few blocks of our homes since it is where we spend the most time. Some parents don’t like to hear the possibilities of what could happen and others ask a lot of questions. Questions are a great — they can save a life. If another mother offers to pick up my daughter, I always ask what type of car seat she has, and many times I end up installing my seat in her vehicle. I am happy to take the few minutes and do it.

Q: It seems to me the best way to keep a child safe might be to instill a sense of caution in the child. What advice do you have for doing that without turning your kid into a nervous nelly?

P: Caution is good, but you’re right, you don’t want to overdo it. So much of this is in your hands. Your child doesn’t need to know everything about the car seat they are in — just that they need to be in it. I often hear that a child can’t wait to get to a booster seat or get out of one. Most children wouldn’t even know that there is a day that they won’t need the booster seat — we instill this in them. You handle the safety and let them be a kid. You’ll feel more at ease about it. Every mom only wants what is best for her children.

Thank you very much to Jamie for sharing her knowledge by doing a Q&P! If you would like to be featured, or you know any parents who have expertise to share, please comment here on the blog or send me e-mail at jalterio@lohud.com.

And, in case you missed them, here are links to earlier Q&P features. There are interviews with more than a dozen moms and dads, including a dog trainer dad, financial planner mom, writer mom, mathematician mom, baker mom, drug counselor mom and pediatric dentist mom.