My 4-year-old son and I have a common exchange when I give him the one-minute warning.

“You’ve got one more minute, and then it’s time to (eat dinner, get out of the pool, go to bed, etc.)” I tell him.

“Is a minute a long time?” my son asks with complete sincerity.

“It’s 60 seconds,” I tell him.

“Oh, cool. Thanks, Mom.”

He’s happy. I’m happy. And, best of all, I didn’t have to lie.

According to a recent Redbook survey, 84 percent of the magazine’s readers said they lie to their kids about once a month. But they’re not proud of it: 76 percent said they feel guilty about telling their child a lie.

As much as I try to avoid lying to my son, I too have been guilty. When the time came to wean him off a pacifier, I concocted the perfect plan: Upon our return from a trip to California to visit Grandpa, I told him we had accidentally left them behind. I got the queue from my Mom, who 30 years earlier turned me off to pacifiers by telling me we lost them outside and then “found” them, dripping in mud. Disgusted, I gave those suckers up cold turkey that night.

Childhood experts seem to agree that, generally speaking, white lies parents tell their kids don’t scar them for life. In fact, those tall tales we tell our kids to foster belief in the Tooth Fairy or Santa Claus, for example, can actually fuel their imagination.

But resorting to lying on a regular basis is not the way to build trust between you and your child and could create a sticky situation if you’re caught in the act. Many kids usually learn to lie by age 3, and most learn by copying Mom and Dad. Best to nip that habit in the bud; otherwise, you might end up with a teenager who thinks lying is perfectly OK.

Here are a few tips from my arsenal of trying to avoid lying to my son:

Explain yourself. Instead of trying to convince your child that the M&Ms are old or rotten, tell him that eating too many of them is not healthy. They don’t make you strong the way fruits and vegetables do.

Of course, it’s important to know your audience and understand what your child is developmentally ready to handle. When my husband and I told our son that I was pregnant and expecting Baby No. 2 one evening, he woke up the next morning with lots of questions.

“Is your belly going to get bigger and bigger and then will pop so the baby can come out?” he asked.

“No, my belly won’t pop,” I assured him.

“Will the baby come out of your mouth?” he followed up.

“Don’t worry. The baby is going to grow in my belly, and when it’s time, it’ll come out,” I answered, as I walked toward his playroom to find some great new toy to take his mind off the topic.

Which brings me to my second point:

When in doubt, distract. When you’re heading to the checkout counter and you want to avoid your child spotting that must-have candy, give her the opportunity to swipe your credit card in the machine. Even better, let her press the buttons! Chances are she won’t even notice those M&Ms sitting there.

It’s OK to say you don’t want to talk about something. Remember, you set the rules. The same way you can and should put a stop to your child eating too much cake, you can stop a conversation nicely and directly.

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The time has come. I am about to become a Soccer Mom (minus the mini-van). My husband and I are planning to enroll our son in his first sports league. We figure soccer is a good start for an energetic kid who collects so many bruises and scrapes running around that his teacher has coined him “Boo-Boo Boy.” Might as well give him a good excuse!

But I’d be lying if I said we weren’t proceeding with caution. Figuring out the right time to start, balancing the practice schedule with daily life, and deciding – if it comes to that – when is it OK to quit is enough to send any parent running for the bench.

And let’s not forget those diehard parents who make heckling at a ref at their kid’s Little League game a sport. As I see it, parents fall into one of two categories: Those who want to enroll Little Johnny in a sport for his personal development. (Think learning cooperation, teamwork, responsibility.) Or those that are hoping to groom a star college athlete or Olympian. (Think multiple travel teams, intense pressure, little free time.)

My husband and I definitely fall into the first camp. And we both played competitive sports as children. So we’re no couch potatoes.

There’s a lot to consider before taking the plunge. Here are a few points I’ve found important. Would love to hear some of yours:

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My 4-year-old son is about to get his own iPhone. When Dad upgrades his phone, he has decided to pass down the old one to our pre-schooler (sans the SIM card).

I thought the idea a bit strange at first, but I’ve come around. My son became an iPhone whiz before his third birthday. He knows his way around the apps, the videos and even the camera, teaching my husband and me a few things along the way (like how to get a screen grab from the phone).

As far as debates between my tech-junky husband and me go, the what-to-do-with-the-old-iPhone one was pretty easy. We’ve butted heads before on the issue of wiring our kid.

How much is too much too soon?

Here are a few of the tech debates we’ve had in the Vasquez household. Would love to hear some of yours:

TV in the bedroom. Just say no. Really. What child who has spent more than half of his life in diapers needs a TV in the bedroom? My husband thought it’d be a great idea. In addition to the common sense argument, I have legions of pediatric professionals on my side. As it is, the American Academy of Pediatrics recommends children under the age of two watch no TV. And those older than two watch no more than one or two hours of quality programming. Granted, they are tough guidelines to abide by. (I loved those Baby Einstein videos when my son was a toddler.) But a TV in the bedroom at this age is like walking off a cliff. Our compromise? We put a TV in my son’s playroom, which, frankly, doesn’t get a fraction of the use as the one we all watch together in the family room.

Video games. I am a huge fan of educational gadgets like those made by Leapster. My son has a Leapster L-Max handheld video game player that is teaching him math, writing and problem solving. I’m convinced the player (and its stylus pen) is the reason he can now write numbers that actually look like real numbers. He is now fascinated by addition and subtraction. He also has a Smart Cycle by Fisher Price that incorporates peddling a bicycle with educational games. I think it helped encourage him to practice riding the real thing.

I’m less enthused about game players like Playstation and the Wii. Yes, they’re very cool. And I fully expect that at some point down the road, my son will start playing them. But right now? I’d rather he go swimming in the pool or play with friends outside. And my son is not all that interested. My husband tried to get him to play a Lego Star Wars game on an old Playstation 2 console. It’s sitting gathering dust.

Computer. It’s inevitable that your child will show a growing interest in working on a computer. Getting children to understand how computers function is more a necessity than a luxury. My six-year-old niece who is in kindergarten already gets homework assignments via e-mail and the Internet. So the question here is really: When? When do you start making it a regular habit? When do you buy your kids (if you can afford it) their own computer?

My husband and I are still wrestling with this one. There are some great educational websites that we allow our son to check out on our computer with our supervision. A recent favorite is colorwithleo.com, which has all sorts of geometric games, puzzles and art-driven activities designed to bring out the Leonardo da Vinci in young children.

My husband is already talking about getting my son his own laptop. But I’m thinking: Let’s first buy him a bicycle with training wheels. Am I wrong?

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It’s wedding week at SouthFlorida.com/LIVE, and it got me thinking…

There are seminal moments in a young couple’s life: There’s the day you meet, the day you move in together, the day you get married (which can coincide with No. 2), and the day you become parents.

Each one is both blissful and stressful. Perhaps none more than becoming Mom and Dad. If you’re smart, you’ve talked about family planning before you walk down the aisle. And if you’re really smart, you keep talking about it long after the honeymoon.

It’s not as simple as knowing whether or not you both want kids one day. That’d be way too easy. Life is much more complicated than that. So here’s my list of questions any couple on the cusp of marriage should be asking each other. I encourage readers of this blog to add ones I may have missed.

How many? My husband and I quickly settled on two. We both have siblings and couldn’t imagine having an only child. Three kids and we’d be out numbered. Not to mention broke. My sister is now a working mom of three. My brother-in-law jokes about having a fourth. She doesn’t think it’s funny. She’s plenty happy with a party of five.

Where will you live? Before I got married, I knew I wanted to own a home before a little one arrived. Not only that, I knew I’d want to eventually move back to live close to my family in Miami. My husband, a California native who really loved our seven years living in the Golden State, definitely would have been in for an unpleasant surprise if I kept either of those two expectations to myself.

What if you can’t conceive? Admittedly, this one didn’t come up for us until after we had our first child. We just assumed we’d have two kids. Little did we think Mother Nature may not work in our favor exactly when we had planned. Two miscarriages and more than a year of trying, we finally decided we were blessed with one child and grew at peace with our new reality. No fertility treatments. No adoption. A few weeks later, we learned we were pregnant with Baby No. 2, who is due this fall.

Keep the faith? We’re still wrestling with this one. My husband was raised Catholic. I am Methodist. We both quickly decided to baptize our son but knew we didn’t want parochial school. Now we’re torn about Sunday school. What church? What faith? We’ve put it off long enough.

How will you deal with change? You can plan until your face turns blue. More important than any answer to my questions above is coming to an understanding that things could change. You may want that home with a white picket fence but can’t afford more than your two-bedroom rental. You may vow against fertility treatments but later realize you couldn’t live with yourself without trying every possible solution.

Just keep talking, and you’ll figure it out.

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Getting on an airplane with small children can strike fear into the hearts of parents. (And, yes, fellow passengers.)

I know the feeling too well. My four-year-old son has made cross-country flights on an annual basis since he was born.

Before he (I) blew out the candle on his first birthday cake, he had already racked up considerable mileage by flying San Francisco-to-Miami three times. As if traveling with a two-month-old wasn’t challenging enough for our inaugural flight, my husband and I decided to bring our beloved beagle along (inside the cabin). By the time we reached the departure gate, we were breaking a sweat, thanks to the Olympic maneuvers required to get through security while juggling baby, car seat, stroller, carry-on bags and doggy carrier. And then we had a five-hour flight to endure. I’m tired just thinking about it.

But we survived. And so can you. As your little one gets older, the challenges will change, and you’ll need to adjust. With the summer travel season now officially underway, here are a few tips to keep air travel stress free:

Buy a seat for the baby. Sure, right now you think saving the money and having baby sit on your lap for the entire flight is a grand idea. Chances are it won’t be comfortable for either of you. And if it’s a long flight, it’s a recipe for disaster. You can no longer count on having an open seat next to you. Airlines are packing their planes while offering fewer flights. Extra tip: Ask the airline if they have discounted airfare for infants. Most do.

Choose a direct flight. Even if it means leaving from an alternate airport or it costs a little more. Just picture yourself bobbing through a crowded airport (with a child who is tired, cranky, hungry or in need of a diaper change) trying to make a connecting flight. It isn’t pretty.

Consider sitting at the back of the plane. If you have a toddler or pre-schooler who can’t sit still for long, you’ll want some space. Usually, the seats at the back of the plane are situated near the flight attendant station, which can provide a little bit of walking space without disturbing the majority of passengers. Extra tip: You’ll also be closer to the bathroom.

Do not underestimate the power of distraction. DVD player? Toys? Books? Lunch box filled with goodies? Pack all of the above. I also bring one new toy as a surprise present that I break out if all else fails.

Make nice with fellow passengers. This one comes from a former colleague of mine who proudly told my husband and me of a peace offering he made with surrounding passengers on his first flight with the baby to his native Argentina. As everyone settled into their seats, he and his wife passed out ear plugs. They also bought a round of drinks for those closest to them.

So tell me: What’s your plan for traveling with kids this summer?

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Two years ago, in this very space, I wrote about how my husband and I were worlds apart when it came to parenting styles.

We’re now two years wiser, our son two years older (4+), and guess what? We’re still exactly where we were two years ago. The scenarios are slightly different, but our roles remain the same: He’s still the “fun” parent. I’m the rule maker.

One key change? I’ve learned to embrace our differences. (Do not interpret that to mean that I don’t get annoyed with the differences. I’ve just learned to accept them, like the stack of dirty dishes sitting in my kitchen sink right now while said husband snoozes on the couch after promising to wash them.)

Acceptance is liberating. But so is realizing that – as much as you’d hate to admit it – Dad’s approach may actually work. A story I read recently reminded me of that. Here are the big takeaways for me:

Thou shalt accept allowing your kids to take risks: Dads tend to be more at ease with letting their children get banged around a bit. That scraped knee may be painful now, but Dad is betting next time Little Danny won’t climb the playground with two toys in hand. My tendency? Tell Danny to put down the toys before he starts climbing.

Thou shalt accept that less-than-perfect is OK: So what if Dad dresses Danny in an outfit even a colorblind person wouldn’t put together? And will my son even notice that his shirt is on backwards? It’s not the end of the world. The time Mom spends correcting Dad’s behavior could probably be better spent just enjoying the moment with the family.

Thou shalt accept that acting like a kid has its benefits: My husband has mastered the art of distraction. My son won’t jump in the bathtub? Dad pretends to start taking off his own clothes and runs to the bathroom to beat my son to it. My son doesn’t want to go to bed? Dad secretly steals a few of his toys and mysteriously places them in the hallway leading to his bedroom. Both work like a charm. And if I tried either, my son would see right through it. Dad has the magic touch.

What’s your parenting style? And if you’re wondering where you and your significant other fall on the parenting spectrum, take this test.

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Remember when summer meant the start of relaxation? If you’re a working parent, the word “summer” can be a dreaded term.

Figuring out how to keep your children busy while mom and dad are working full-time pulls at both your heart and wallet. Your heart, because as much as you want to “enrich” your children with all of these wonderful gymnastics, tennis, arts & crafts camps, you also realize that there are benefits to having some time to just veg out and do as little as possible. Your wallet, because the reality is Little Johnny can’t stay home alone, and the camps you’ve checked out amount to a sizeable car payment.

I consider myself one of the lucky ones. My son’s pre-school has a built-in camp option, so I’ve been paying for the upcoming summer sessions all year long. I’m putting off worrying about what to do when he enters kindergarten and actually has the summer off like most regular kids. My neighbor is going the smorgasbord route for her pre-schooler: Gymnastics camp for three weeks; general-interest camp at a different location for three weeks; then back to school for a camp to transition her daughter into the start of the school year. My sister-in-law, who is a personal trainer, is considering two weeks of soccer camp for her son. The rest of the summer, he’ll just have to tag along with her when she meets with clients. And my sister, the lucky one, is relying on Abuelo and Abuela to watch her three kids this summer.

If you’re one of those parents dreading the summertime blues, be sure to check out the Sun Sentinel’s online summer camp guide. And here are a few of my own tips to keep in mind:

- Ask for a group discount. If you have more than one child who will be enrolling in a camp, ask for a price break. It’s also worth asking if you get a group of your kid’s friends to enroll.

- Faith-based groups, city parks and recreation departments, and YMCAs usually offer camps that are reasonably priced.

- Ask about scholarships. Some camps work with foundations that set aside some money to be available to families in need.

- Organize play-date swaps. Check with the parents of some of your child’s friends to see if they’re interested in alternating days or weeks to watch over a small group of kids.

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Much has been written recently (including in this blog) about the two Palm Beach County moms who went on Oprah to talk about their kids’ sex lives. I’ve always been a consummate planner, so it got me thinking: When is the right time to talk to your child about sex?

Forget going to the bookstore to pick up a hardback on the topic. I took my research into the 21st Century and did what any respectable Gen Xer would do: I posed the question to my elaborate network of friends on Facebook. After all, as this blog so often reminds you, it’s the advice from parents in the throes of childrearing who can offer the best words of wisdom.

Here’s some of what I heard:

Take it slow. You don’t need to cram everything into one BIG talk. Instead, have ongoing discussions and make them short. One of my friends thinks the car is the best place. That way, her daughter can look out the window and pretend to stare off into space while Mom is driving.

The “right” age is relative. Everyone, though, seems to agree that if you wait until your kids are teenagers, chances are they’ve already started learning on their own. And the basics start early: Talking to kids about their bodies (and overall gender differences) begins when kids learn to talk. My pre-schooler right now has lots of questions.

Split up the work. If you live in a two-parent household, ask your spouse or partner to help. My friends from California decided early that Mom would handle talks with their daughter and Dad with their son. The talks began around ages 9-10. The kids are now 13 and 11, and they have grown accustomed to Mom’s and Dad’s talks. At the beginning of the conversation, daughter always says: “Awkward.” And Mom replies with: “For me too! Get over it…”

How this generation of parents deals with the sex talk will differ greatly from how our parents handled the situation. (I don’t think I ever had a “talk” with anyone in my family as a teen. The closest I came to one was a 5-minute conversation initiated by my older sister on a flight to Paris for a family vacation.)

What’s your plan?

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What a difference a year makes.

A year ago, I wrote about my guilt over being a working mom, in response to an innocent Mother’s Day questionnaire completed at school by my then-three-year-old son. He told his teachers that his “Mommy loves to _(work)_.”

For this Mother’s Day, teachers again posed the question to my son. Only this time he answered: “My Mother likes to _(cook)_.”

No, I didn’t quit my job and become a stay-at-home mom.

But I did make a New Year’s resolution that I would make sure we had more family dinners at home. I rearranged my son’s night schedule, so that I had a better chance of making it home in time for dinner. And I started preparing meals early. Sometimes days early. Just to give myself a fighting chance to actually succeed.

Despite lots of talk in recent years about a phenomenon coined mothers “opting out” of the workplace and returning home to take care of the kids and household, a study last year showed that more women with children (not fewer) are working full-time -- and logging longer hours.

There has always been pressure to live up to an unrealistic idea of what motherhood can and should be. Just think about all the moms on the silver screen and TV shows: How many can you recall featured a working mom who didn’t always get it right? Who struggled to get dinner on the table, failed to attend PTA meetings or never made it to a weekday soccer game?

Help me come up with a list. I’ll talk about it Wednesday morning on the new SouthFlorida.com/LIVE morning show.

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I am expecting Baby No. 2 this fall. Now that I’m well into my second trimester, you’ll be hearing from me on a variety of issues – from medical tests to preparing older brother for the baby.

I must admit that, at first, I almost felt like I needed to explain why my husband and I chose to have a baby in this economy. But that’s nonsense. A baby is a blessing at any time. And think of all the other potential benefits…

Top 5 reasons a recession is as good a time as any to be pregnant:

-- Forget your credit card bills for a moment. This is one “due date” that you can actually look forward to.

-- Keep the family together. Rather than focus on your plunging home value, you can instead fantasize about your little one actually being able to afford a home near you one day.

-- Help stimulate the economy. Just think about what millions of moms buying loads of diapers, baby products, cans of formula could do to help bring the economy out of this slump.

-- A sense of accomplishment. Layoffs are a fact of life these days, but having a baby is a lifelong project you can help guide well into old age, if you’re lucky.

-- No one can tell the difference between whether you are overeating because of stress or simply “eating for two.”

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If this video doesn’t pull on the heartstrings of parents everywhere, you probably need to have your heart checked.

An anti-smoking campaign commercial shot in a busy Australia bus station pictures a little boy who is separated from his mother amid the bustling scene. The boy looks sincerely lost. The cameras capture a very real moment where he turns from surprised to scared to just plain sad, with tears streaming down his face.

Queue the somber music, followed by an ominous voice: “If this is how your child feels after losing you for a minute, just imagine if they lost you for life.”

The ad by Quit Victoria, a nonprofit established by a local government in Australia, is creating a buzz.

Parents are asking whether it was appropriate to put the little boy in a situation where he very seemingly believed he had lost his mother. Quit’s executive director appeared on the Today Show this morning and said the boy and mother were actors who were coached for the commercial. Still she came short of denying that the scene, captured in one take, was anything but real for the little boy.

My question: Is it wrong to try to evoke a real response from child actors? Matt Lauer seemed to think so. But is it so different than the photographer who tries to capture a few alligator tears for the camera? (My parents have one of those shots of my sister when she was just a few months old.)

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I didn’t come to know about Jade Goody until she became the symbol of cervical cancer as the young mother of two little boys. I didn’t watch her on Big Brother U.K. And I didn’t watch her on yet another reality series as she got the news that she was dying of the disease.

But her story has captivated me since she chose to die on television, selling exclusive rights to filming her final days of life. Goody died over the weekend.

As a mother, I can’t stop thinking about her little boys. What they must be going through. And that they had to go through this very tragic time in the spotlight of television cameras. In a flash, those little boys were forced to grow up and deal with a painful reality many adults have yet to experience.

I’ve wondered if given the chance, would I make the decision Goody made to die in front of the cameras. I’m glad I don’t have to make that choice. Goody’s decision was apparently a financial one: The money she received in exchange for her access would go a long way in providing for her children and paying for their education long after she was gone.

But at what cost to the children? I guess the millions could also go toward paying for the kids’ counseling, as well, because they’ll surely need it.

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I had one of those “light bulb” moments the other day when my 4-year-old son tagged along for a quick trip to the salon. As I sat in the chair and chatted with my hairstylist, my son played his video games contently.

Before long, we started talking about the economy: The slumping real estate market. People losing jobs. 401(k)s disappearing. We must have used words, such as “bad,” “scary,” and “sad” in what amounted to a three-minute conversation.

My son stopped playing his game and put an end to it: “Stop talking, Mommy!” He said it firmly, with an intensity that was more concern than childish.

Shocked, my hairstylist and I quickly changed the subject and quietly wondered if my son actually understood what we were talking about. He may not know what being “underwater” on your mortgage means, but he certainly knew Mommy was not talking about happy things.

The experience really made me appreciate the degree to which young children can worry about issues that are far beyond their years. That afternoon, I saw my son in a different light. And I vowed to be more mindful of how and when I talk about sensitive topics.

The American Academy of Pediatrics has prepared tips for parents and caregivers when it comes to talking to kids about the economy. Among other things, they recommend limiting TV and other media time; talking to your pediatrician if your child shows signs of stress; and choosing your words carefully.

What tips do you have about talking to your kids about the economy?

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One of my New Year’s resolutions sounds simple, but it's not: eating dinner as a family more often.

Because of our work schedules, my husband often eats dinner with our four-year-old son during the week. I arrive shortly after, if I’m lucky. I do my best to make it home in time at least once or twice during the workweek. The weekends are my time to cook and hopefully leave enough leftovers to last a few days.

But it’s just not good enough. Countless studies have explored the benefits of a family dinner for children of all ages. That time around the table purportedly guards against obesity, results in better grades at school, and helps prevent teens from engaging in illicit behavior.

Forget the studies. I don’t need a report to tell me that spending quality family time together has lasting benefits. So I’ve decided to alter my son’s schedule. We now eat dinner a little later and moved up my son’s bath time. We’ve only tried it for a few days, but it seems to be working.

And I can tell my son enjoys the special time together. Just last night, he turned to me in between bites of his fricase de pollo and said: “Mom, you’re the best cooker!”

How do you make dinnertime work for your family?

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I’m starting to appreciate what it means to be left-handed in a right-handed world. I first suspected my son was favoring his left hand when he began putting baby rattles in his mouth.

The doctors told me to forget about it until he was 3 years old. Many kids don’t have a dominant hand until that age. Three years went by, and guess what? My son still favored his left hand. Wait until he’s 4 years old, then you’ll know, my son’s doctor said.

Danny turned 4 last month and – surprise – he prefers to write, cut, kick and ride a scooter with his left. Fortunately, my son’s teacher is left-handed and is very cognizant of how she teaches my son.

But what should I be doing as a parent? Or, more importantly, what should I not be doing?

Both my husband and I are right-handed. Teaching our son to trace, write and cut are already a challenge. I can’t imagine how we’ll tackle teaching him to tie his shoelaces!

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Visiting your neighborhood park with your children should not be a lesson in profanity.

I still remember when I took my son to one of our favorite haunts in Davie, and he came across some graffiti on the side of the playground.

“What does that say, Mommy?” my three-year-old asked.

I diverted his attention elsewhere and seethed at the thought of delinquents destroying the recently refurbished playground. I should have reported it to the city.

That’s what some parents in Coral Springs are doing as they patrol their area parks. Called Park Moms, they check to see if the garbage is picked up, equipment is functioning properly and the playground is graffiti-free. (You can read about them in today’s Sun-Sentinel.)

If only there was a Park Moms in every city. Now there’s an idea…

Tell us what you think, and share your playground stories.

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My son is finally at the age where he can enjoy (and sit through) a movie at the theater. We've seen Kung Fu Panda, Speed Racer and Horton Hears a Who in the past year.

Now the movie my son has been waiting for opens this weekend -- Wall-E, a lovable little robot tasked with cleaning up the mess that is Earth in the distant future. Judging by the review, it should be well worth the wait.

Will let you know what my son thought of it next week. At what age did you start taking your son/daughter to the movies?

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The sting from Mother’s Day is slowly subsiding. Yes, Mother’s Day.

For the special occasion, my three-year-old son answered a series of questions posed by his teachers for a special, keepsake memento for Mommy. Questions like:

“My mother’s eyes are _(green)___ . My mother’s hair is _(brown)__ . My mother’s favorite color is _(red)__ .”

Cute, harmless stuff. Then came the zinger, the one I can’t get out of my mind and has fueled both tears of laughter and sadness.

“My mother loves to _(WORK!!!!)_.”

OK, he didn’t actually yell the answer to his teachers (the caps and exclamation points are how I read it). But he might as well have. His answer gets to the heart of insecurity for most working moms I know. And it breaks my heart to think “work” is what first came to his mind.

My husband and my son’s teacher both worried I might take it the wrong way. I’m sorry: What good way is there to take it? Yes, I’m sure at three years old, my son said it as matter-of-factly as, “The sky is blue.” Still doesn’t make me feel any better. (That said, I’m sure I feel better than the mom whose son said: “My mother loves to ___(put me in time out.)_”)

A colleague at work, hearing my telling of the story, offered some insight that poured salt on the wound: “It’s not where you want to be that matters to children. It’s where you are.”

Leave it to my son to be the one to make me feel better. He overheard me reciting the Mommy questionnaire on the phone to my mother.

“You’re never going to believe what he said,” I told my mom.

“Your mother loves to …..” I continued.

Then my son chimed in: “Bake cookies!”

I looked at him, put the phone down and ran across the room to give him a big, fat kiss.

And then I wondered if permanent marker was a bit much to add a footnote to my cherished memento.

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Dry drowning. Ever heard of it?

I hadn't until my brother passed along the following link. A 10-year-old from South Carolina died this week, more than hour after he had gone swimming.

Apparently, during his day at the pool, water accumulated in his lungs. He walked home with his mother, talking normally, and then went to bed because he felt very tired. He never woke up.

About 3,600 Americans died from drowning in 2005, according to the latest figures by the US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC). An estimated 10-15 percent of those were classified as "dry drowning," in which death occurs up to 24 hours later because of water entering the respiratory system.

As the summer swimming season kicks off with the end of school this week, I'm keeping this story top of mind. My hope is to teach my 3-year-old to swim this summer.

Any tips on good private instructors or classes for pre-schoolers?

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Just in time for Mother’s Day, a Bal Harbour plastic surgeon is releasing a new children’s book: “My Beautiful Mommy.”

The illustrated book helps walk little kids through understanding why Mommy wants that tummy tuck, breast augmentation or nose job.

“But you’re already the prettiest Mommy in the whole wide world!” reads an excerpt from the book by Dr. Michael Salzhauer posted on Newsweek's Web site.

No matter. Mommy doesn’t feel that way.

I’m doing my best not to pass judgment. (I’ll leave that to all of you transPARENT readers and those of the parenting bloggers at our sister newspaper, Orlando Sentinel.) Not my job.

Let me just say I’m happy I have a son. I can only imagine how difficult it would be for a young girl to deal with a Mom who is struggling with body image issues.

Believe me, I have my share of those. But my son is more interested in cars and robots than whether Mommy is upset that she still can’t get into her pre-pregnancy jeans. I have often thought about how mindful I would have to be about making seemingly innocuous comments (“Do I look fat in this outfit? I look pregnant!”) if I had a daughter.

For all you mothers of daughters out there: How have you handled the issue of body image? Any inadvertent missteps?

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Last week, our parenting blog colleagues at the Orlando Sentinel began a discussion about children and music. (One parent worried about her young daughter coming home singing the lyrics to a rap song. ) And at transPARENT, fellow blogger Matthew Strozier lamented that he had to give up his hope (at least for now) of introducing grown-up music to his two-year-old. His son loooves Raffi.

My three-year-old son did too. But then he discovered Avril Lavigne. And Alicia Keys. And Journey.

I thank the iPhone and the fact that I love to sing in the car on the 40-minute drive down to my parents’ house in Miami each weekend.

And in some cosmic sense, maybe the fact that my son was born to a mix CD my husband and I made for the special occasion has something to do with it. Officially, our son was born to Sade’s “By Your Side.” A few seconds earlier, and he would have been born to the Santana/Rob Smith 1999 hit “Smooth.” (How I remembered this amid a non-medicated birthing process is beyond me.)

You never know whether your kid is going to be a music aficionado. My advice? Expose him or her often and early. And, as much as possible, engage in the music. Sing and dance together. Be silly. Make it fun.

To this day, I still insist on dancing to the Go Diego Go! song before each episode. I can’t think of a time when my son – even in the worst of moods – didn’t want me to pick him up and twirl him around.

He also pulls out his Fisher Price piano every time he’s inspired: Usually when he sees former Journey frontman Steve Perry play the piano in the “Don’t Stop Believin’” video we downloaded from iTunes. My son quickly learned how to navigate my husband’s iPhone and likes to replay his favorite songs and videos over and over again.

As for other grown-up music, he learned on those trips down to Miami to request certain songs: There’s the CD that has some oldies like “Sugar” and “Buttercup.” And the Indigo Girls CD, which has, according to my son, the “Mommy and Daddy” song. (Our wedding DVD, which my son loves to watch, has as part of its soundtrack the IG song “Closer to Fine.”)

But, by far, my son’s favorite, No. 1 request, several months running, is “No One,” by Alicia Keys. In my household, it’s better known as “Special Music Song.” That’s the term my son coined the first time I played the song for him and told him: “I have a special song for you.”

Hot Wheels in hand, head bobbing to the beat, he does his best to sing the song. Just last week, as we were listening to the song on the way to school, he told me he wanted to sing it to his friends. A cute notion, but one I thought he’d soon forget.

He didn’t.

As soon as he stepped into the classroom, he found his best friend and started:

“No one, No one, No wa-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-n, (mumble, mumble, mumble) feel for you,” he began. Then he skipped to his favorite part: “Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, Oh (oh), Oh (oh), O-o-oh.”

Now that’s music to my ears.

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Want to look smart and tech savvy without actually doing something more than a third-grader could do?

I’m a little late this year, but I’m planning to design my 2008 personalized calendar online. Ever since my son was born, I’ve used Shutterfly.com to produce a number of keepsakes, including photo books, birthday cards and -- my favorite – calendars.

The best part about the calendar is you can make it start and end at any point in the year. So don’t worry if you’re a procrastinator or that we’re already in Spring. My calendar this year will be April 2008–April 2009, which actually follows my March 2007–March 2008 calendar. (Hey, I’m a busy working mom.)

Don’t be afraid to hunt online for other sites. I know Snapfish.com and Kodak.com also have similar capabilities.

The benefits are huge. Of course, you’ll have a calendar that you can keep for years, much as you would a photo album. Even better: Fill it with little notes about what you did on a particular day.

Some gems I had on my calendar this past year: Jan. 22, 2008: “Danny went to school in underwear for the first time!” June 9, 2007: “My new alarm clock: ‘Wake up, Mommy! I said ‘wa-a-a-ke up!’” October 6, 2007: “Danny says his favorite song is “Hey, Hey, You, You,” which means “Girlfriend” by Avril Lavinge.”

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I’m convinced my three-year-old son is a budding musician. Not the classically trained kind. He’s more of a pound your fists on the Fisher-Price piano and play the harmonica while trying to brush your teeth kind of kid.

For Christmas, my husband desperately wanted to buy our son the Blue Man Group keyboard and drums. He was very disappointed when Santa drew the line on expensive gifts at a 5-speed miniature Corvette, which said husband also desperately wanted for our son. (Starts to make me wonder whom the Christmas gifts are for.)

Now’s my chance to see if those Blue Man instruments are worth the investment. The Blue Man Group brings their How to be a Megastar Tour 2.1 to the BankAtlantic Center in Sunrise on Saturday. Tickets aren’t cheap, but it’ll be the closest thing to a “date night” I’ve had in months.

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This week, my three-year-old began to learn the value of a dollar. Better said, he’s learning the value of a penny, nickel, dime and quarter.

And I can thank a "Curious George" cartoon on PBS. My son and I caught a few minutes of an episode the other morning that involved the scheming monkey using a piggy bank to save money to buy a toy.

My son immediately wanted a piggy bank. A blue one.

That afternoon when I picked him up from pre-school, I opened up a gift given to me at one of my baby showers before my son was born – a porcelain piggy bank. It wasn’t blue, but my son’s face lit up regardless.

“Mommy, I need coins,” he said. “I need coins like Curious George.”

I grabbed some spare change and attempted to explain its value. That was way too complex. So, we settled on learning the names and attributes: A penny is copper in color; a dime is the smallest coin; a quarter is the biggest. (I haven’t yet introduced the Susan B. Anthony coin.)

He loved it. My husband I explained to our son that if he helps pick up -- say his toys or the dinner table -- we’ll give him some money for his piggy bank. It has become such a successful tool. I’ve used it to get him to brush his teeth.

Some parents use stickers. We use pennies.

My next step is to help my son realize the choices he can make with his money: Spend it quickly, and buy one small toy or book. Or save more, and buy a bigger toy or more books. I’m not quite sure he’ll get the concept entirely, but at least I’ll have some extra help with chores around the house. And he'll be on his way to saving later in life, I hope.

Tell us what you've done to teach your kids about money and saving.

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We rid our house this week of yogurt-covered raisins.

The seemingly benign snack, an on-and-off favorite of my three-year-old son’s, almost killed our beagle, Chico.

Late one night this week, Chico managed to get into my son’s diaper bag, pull out a sealed Ziploc bag of yogurt raisins and chew a hole through it. When my husband stumbled upon him feasting on top of our bed, it was hard to tell if Chico had eaten two or twenty.

What happened next could be best described as pet pandemonium: My husband panicked, remembering a passing conversation with a friend years ago that raisins, grapes and chocolate can be toxic for dogs. He searched the Internet and read that as little as seven raisins can be lethal.

We had to do something. Little did I know it would involve making my dog throw up (by giving him 3 tablespoons of hydrogen peroxide) and sifting through the vomit to count just how many raisins he may have eaten. Those were the instructions of the ASPCA Animal Poison Control Center, which, by the way, also charged my credit card $60 for the advice.

The final score for the three-hour ordeal: 49 raisins! (Beagles are known for their insatiable appetite.)

The next morning we took Chico to the vet to run some tests to make sure he wasn’t showing signs of renal failure. They came back clean.

We dodged a bullet on this one. Our dog is a member of our family, my son’s brother, as he calls him. But the scare served as a good wake-up call: We’re re-checking our childproof locks and making sure the cabinets are kept securely closed.

And we’ve said goodbye to yogurt raisins.

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My husband and I are finally ready. After two months of accidents, emergency wardrobe changes and extra loads of laundry, we are finally ready to send our 3-year-old son to school in “big boy” underwear, as we call it at home.

Yes, we’re finally ready.

We’ve held off because we have wanted to spare our son the possible embarrassment of wetting his pants in front of his friends. Thanksgiving weekend, he had an accident in front of his cousins and the memory stuck with him.

But since then, our son has progressively improved in the bladder-control department: He now goes to the bathroom on his own (though he still likes to announce it to everyone within an earshot, including our dog). He prefers to wear underwear than pull-ups at home and on the weekends. And the four-times-an-hour accidents have disappeared.

His teachers have been nudging my husband and I to just do it. So this weekend, I will stock up on extra Buzz Lightyear and Nemo underwear, shorts, socks and even buy an extra pair of shoes to send to school. And I’ll just pray for the best.

Am I nuts for taking this step too seriously and postponing it until I thought my son had a real chance at success?

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My three-year-old son had his first dental check-up today – and he was a champ. It didn’t hurt that the office was decked out in safari décor, with bamboo-framed flat-screen TVs blasting Disney favorites like Monsters Inc. and Ratatouille.

Oh, and did I mention the three videogame stations?

What I loved best of all was the way the hygienist and dentist talked to my son. They explained every tool, prefaced every action with a gentle warning, and let him participate by holding the suction device. He even agreed to wear sunglasses to keep the bright light from hurting his eyes. (If you knew my son, you’d know that he’d rather do just about anything than wear 1) a hat 2) sunglasses 3) stickers.)

Despite the smooth visit, I left the office with some homework: Regularly floss my son’s teeth and give him fluoridated water to drink. I’m on board with the flossing. But I have mixed feelings about the extra fluoride. I figured fluoride in toothpaste was enough.

How did you handle the fluoride issue with your kids?

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The only babysitter my son has ever known is his grandmother.

Aside from pre-school, my husband and I have somehow managed to avoid hiring a sitter. (The lone exception was one day last year – an emergency – when we asked one of our son’s teachers to watch him for two hours in the evening until one of us got home.)

The pluses of having abuela babysit are endless: Familiarity, kid-friendly atmosphere, and my son just loves being at her house. But not everyone is as fortunate.

So if you’re in the market for a babysitter, there are several things you should keep in mind. Check out these tips from Sun-Sentinel columnist Daniel Vasquez.

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I love the cold weather. My three-year-old son loves it too. But every year, around this time, we have a confrontation over clothes.

This morning it went something like this:

Slip on long-sleeved shirt: “What’s that? I don’t like it Mommy,” he says with a look of desperation. “Take it off!” I ask him to think of it like a pajama shirt for school.

He looks at me funny.

Slip on pants: His reaction is delayed somewhat because I was clever enough to call the dog into the room to distract him. Thirty seconds later: “It’s too long,” he says tugging at the pants. “I can’t walk.” "Let me put on your shoes," I tell him. "You’ll see you’ll be able to walk just fine."

He looks at me funny.

I hold off on the hooded jacket until I step outside to check if it’s really, absolutely, 100 percent necessary. Snap. It is.

“OK, Danny, we need to put on your jacket,” I tell him. Before he can turn to give me a look, I’ve already got one arm in the jacket and working on the second. I zip him up. He doesn’t move. It’s as if I’ve wrapped him in a straight jacket.

He eventually takes a step toward the car. And then another. Finally, we’re on our way to school. Once there, though, we enter a practically empty classroom.

“Where are all my friends?” my son asks.

“They’re probably all wrestling with their parents to put on their winter clothes,” his teacher explains.

I find comfort in knowing I’m not alone.

Then my son chimes in: “Mommy, take off my jacket.”

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In the end, he was a baseball player.

Halloween in the Vasquez household played out pretty much as expected. When it came time to get dressed to go trick-or-treating, my son would have none of it.

Big tears. Lots of screaming (“Take it off!”) when I tried to slip on the “scurvy” pirate costume he had been talking about for weeks. I managed to get the pants on. But that was it. The shirt might as well have been laced with shards of glass. The painful screams persisted long after the shirt was removed and shoved into a distant corner. Our back-up fireman costume didn’t even make it out of the closet.

The crying eventually subsided, and, amazingly, my son still wanted to go trick-or-treating. So my husband and I improvised and searched the house for some semblance of a costume:

Mickey Mouse Club member. Costume: Mickey Mouse shirt and Mickey ears. My son’s response: “I don’t want the ears. I don’t like it!”

Harry Potter. Costume: Pair of round glasses. My son’s response: “I don’t want glasses!”

Then came one last idea: Baseball player. Costume: Aforementioned pirate pants, San Francisco Giants jersey and plastic bat. My son’s initial response: “No shirt! No shirt!”

At that point, I realized he just wanted to say no to everything –- not exactly unusual for a three-year-old. So I told him if he wanted to go outside to see his friends and go trick-or-treating, he needed to wear a jacket (a.k.a. baseball jersey) because it was cold. (OK, technically, it was just breezy.)

He agreed. He smiled. And the rest is one for the baby book.

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