Me? Aside from what my mom has always wished for -- "I just want us all to be together as a family" -- my needs and wants are very simple.

10. Towels to be used more than once.
9. Shoes that put themselves away.
8. I want my children to like the same foods, particularly fruits and vegetables.
7. A self-filling dishwasher.
6. I want my questions to get answers of more than one syllable.
5. Chores to be completed without having to say it twice.
4. I want to remember everything I thought I would never forget about my kids.
3. More time in the day.
2. Peace and understanding.
1. An iPhone.

At first, I scoffed, insisting that if I had to struggle through Shakespeare, so should she. But as I explored the website, "No Fear Shakespeare," from SparkNotes, I decided it was intelligent and effective.

Here is their translation for Hamlet's famous soliloquy ("To be or not to be, that is the question"): "The question is: is it better to be alive or dead? Is it nobler to put up with all the nasty things that luck throws your way, or to fight against all those troubles by simply putting an end to them once and for all?"

If they read only the translation, kids would never know where famous expressions like "To be or not to be" came from. Still, if they read it side by side, as they can on the website, they may find Shakespeare more approachable than they had expected.

I was reminded of mine last week, when I spoke with the family of my childhood friend Shannon Melendi. Her parents, sister and U.S. Congresswoman Ileana Ros-Lehtinen launched a petition drive to keep Shannon’s confessed killer, Colvin C. “Butch” Hinton, III, behind bars when he comes up for parole. (You can sign the petition here.)

Shannon’s kidnap and murder are never far from my mind as I raise my two children. If it could happen to a smart, independent 19 year old on a Saturday afternoon at a busy softball park in suburban Atlanta, it could happen to anyone.

I live with that reality. And that makes me different than a lot of parents who go through life thinking such cruelty only happens to “other” people.

My Mommy DNA makes me a protective mom. Some might call me overprotective. When I take my son to the park, I don’t just plant myself on a bench and engage in conversation with other moms. I move around to keep my son in sight. When he’s older and asks to spend the night at a friend’s house, I’ll say no. When we have a quiet moment, every once in a while, I fill the silence by asking him what he would do if someone he didn’t know asked him to get into a car.

No matter your Mommy DNA, you can take three simple steps that can go a long way in keeping your children safe.

Make sure you carry a recent photo of your child. That will help authorities should your child go missing. Even better, store it on your phone. Also, have your child fingerprinted and keep the card in a safe place.

Locate sex offenders near your home and kid’s school. There is a lot of information out there. Why not arm yourself with it? Two sites that I’d recommend: The Florida Department of Law Enforcement (FDLE) “offenders” site and familywatchdog.us.

Talk to your kids about staying safe. Make sure it’s age appropriate. For younger kids, role playing helps. For older kids, it’s about keeping an open line of communication. Start early so that they grow comfortable talking to you about their day at school and friends.

For instance, if your car were acting up, you might look under the hood before taking the vehicle to the mechanic. If your computer suddenly froze up - you're likely to push a few buttons or scoot the mouse around the pad.

So if your infant or baby is all red-faced, teary-eyed, fit-to-be-tied-bawling-his-or-her-eyes-out -- get over it - by checking it out the old-fashioned way: touch, hold, cuddle, sooth, coo, hug and in general assess the situation of said tiny being.

But wait, forget all that - don't trouble yourself - here's an App for that. I'm sorry to be the one to break the news to you.

The Cry Translator, according to promotional verbiage is, "an easy to use iPhone app that quickly identifies the five distinct cries made by infants: hungry, sleepy,annoyed, stressed or bored. These five cries are universal to all babies regardless of culture or language."

Wow. I'm speechless. Don't get me wrong - there are a few apps I am a huge fan of - Paper Toss is my fav.

But just imagine, you hear the child cry and you approach gingerly. Finally, thinks baby, I'll get some food or be held [insert other need/want here]. Instead, Baby sees tiny microphone held to face area. The outstretched arm is merely a tease. Baby increases wailing.

How will the app translate that?

Well, once is does, there are some suggestions on how to care for the child - which means while the Baby continues to cry, you begin reading a paragraph or two on what to do next.

Frankly, you really need to just put down your gadgets and pick up the child. It's called communication. What ever happened to consulting with the co-parent; Neighbors, people at work, on play dates in the park, grandparents, etc?

A 16-second Saturday Night Live skit says it all. Gosh.

Please, if you have this app - don't tell me. It'll make me want to cry.

"How old are you?"
"I'm gonna be 7."
"You're gonna be 40. How old are you now?"

I'm struggling to figure out why it is that people, particularly kids, find themselves utterly unable to answer simple questions. These days, with my stepdaughters, the conversations usually go something like this:

"Have you done your school project?"
"It's not due until next week."
"Oh. I see. So... Have you done your school project?"

The answer is related to the question I asked, but it's actually the answer to a different question. I think it has to do with a desire to save time. When I asked the kid how old he was, he must have figured I was more interested in his next birthday than with his current age, so he skipped to the next question. And the girls must figure it's easier to tell me why their homework isn't done than it is to just say no, seeing as my next question will be "Why not?"

Why do people do that? It's not just kids, either. My wife does it all the time, and I'm sure I do, too.

"Are you hungry?"
"What's for dinner?"

See, the answer is related to the question I asked, but it's not an answer. Would you be hungry if I made pork chops but not hungry if I made liver? No, that's not how hunger works.

I wonder if life would be more interesting if we ran things a little more like a courtroom. That way, whenever someone failed to answer a simple question, someone else could jump up and say "Objection! Non-responsive." They do that in court. Then the judge gets to decide whether the response really answered the question. The judge can tell the witness to give a more direct answer. That might be cool.

Then again, it won't work, because I'd never get to be the judge. So I'd never win. And I'd never find out whether anyone wants dinner.

I will resist trying to turn this into a life lesson for my kids, though my son is just about ready to get his permit. He heard about the accident on the news, so what could I possibly say that would have any impact whatsoever? ("Don't wear a seatbelt" sure isn't a valid take-away from this tragedy.) Teens, with their oh-so-flimsy shield of immortality to protect them, don't hear an anxious parent's fears.

But I tell you this much: My son is going to be on a short leash when he does get his license. And he's going to be equipped with one of those underwater window busting tools.

It's a supreme act of faith to give the car keys to a teen. I'm going to start saying my prayers now.

My heart aches for the families and friends of these Coral Springs boys. Please, sign a guestbook for them here.

“Hi, kiddo! What’s up?”

“I know there’s no Santa,” he said.

“What?”

“I know Santa’s not real.”

I’m thinking: #$*(S!

“Of course he is!” I insisted.

“Aunt Megan, I know. Seriously. I know.”

So I don't think she'll mind giving up her collection of old cell phones. Whenever we got an upgrade, she liked to keep the old phone to play with. Now that she has her own (functional) cell phone, the old ones just litter her room.

But we can't just toss them in the trash. Cell phones and other electronics don't belong in landfills. They are filled with environmentally harmful materials, such as lead, mercury, acids and more.

So on Saturday, we'll drop off the old phones at the Museum of Discovery and Science in Fort Lauderdale, which is partnering for the first time with Broward County Waste and Recycling as part of America Recyles Day.

From 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. on Saturday, Broward County residents can bring old phones, as well as TVs, computers, keyboards, mouses, printers, VCR players, etc. for recycling. (No business-generated waste, please. Call the county if you have a truckload of old computers.)

D.J. McPherson, public education coordinator with Broward County Waste & Recycling, says the county works with ARC Broward, which either refurbishes or recycles the donated electronics. Refurbished computers, for example, are wiped clean and rebuilt, then either sold to support ARC, or donated to other charities.

MODS will also have related activities on Saturday and Sunday. From 1 to 5 p.m., kids can make their own recycled paper, and at 3 p.m. there will be a relay race for teams trying to sort a mix of recyclables.

The recycling opportunity is available to Broward County residents only (bring proof of residency and an ID). The first 50 people to drop off recyclables will receive a free Firefly kid's phone (one per car).

MODS is at 401 SW Second St. in Fort Lauderdale.

Photo: Mike Stocker, SunSentinel file

They are said to be divorcing, and Jon has been seen with various women in public. In the latest twist, he is getting counsel from Rabbi Shmuley Boteach, former advisor to Michael Jackson and other stars.

I went to hear the Orthodox rabbi last year when he was giving a talk in West Palm Beach. I was impressed with his theme of how we are driving our kids crazy by pressuring them to be the people we want them to be, not who they are.

Sounds like he is driving a similar moral point home to Jon Gosselin. According to CNN, Gosselin is asking "the public to please understand the challenges I face in living under constant public scrutiny, even as I am aware that I have at times courted that scrutiny."

I tend to say "he/she asked for it" when celebrities complain about the spotlight. But Gosselin seems to be showing true remorse at what his life has become. I hope Rabbi Shmuley keeps setting him right.

Staff photo by Scott Fisher

So, this Friday, the GLCC Pride Center is hosting a conference from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m.at their new location: 2040 N. Dixie Highway, in Wilton Manors.

Co-hosts include SunServe, the YMCA of Broward County, Safe Schools South Florida and Equality Florida. “Trapped in the Margins: Challenges of Meeting the Needs of Broward’s Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender Youth,” will highlight issues and challenges; provide information and create dialog as a way to assist our GLBT youth.

Medical and clinical professionals, elected officials, youth service providers, business owners[ legal and protective service professionals and the general public will present case studies and speeches.

For more information about the symposium call 954-463-9005. To learn more about The GLCC Pride Center and their programs visit www.glccsf.org

She has a fabulously funny and relatable Suburban Jungle blog: It May Be Suburbia, But it's a Jungle Out There.

I’ve discovered the quickest way to make people both despise and hiss at you. It’s a brilliant plan for anyone with too many friends, or any kind of social interaction anxiety.

Just bring a cranky, overtired 4-year-old to the grocery store and watch the magic unfold.

My daughter began our trip like a drunk: a little unstable, but mostly cheerful and giddy. I may have even gotten a "I love you man, I mean Mom," accompanied by a hearty chest bump. Well, her chest, my knee. But like most drunks, the second you shove them into the seat of the shopping cart, they get belligerent. Cindy, our favorite check-out girl, saw this up close and personal.

"Hello, my sweet Ryan," Cindy greeted. "Sweet Ryan" responded with bared teeth and an ominous growl.

I should have done a 180 then and there, but I decided that it was more important that my family have their precious food, than maintain goodwill toward our local grocery clerks.

By the meat counter, Ryan lost it when I pulled the ticket out of the number machine. When I felt her eyes bore a hole through my forehead, I succumbed, and allowed her to yank out 10 more numbers, much to the dismay of the deli staff and waiting customers.

By the time we hit produce, she had spiraled out of control. Ryan wanted grapes, but after careful consideration, I mentioned that they looked a bit pruny. This left her no choice but to unleash a bloodcurdling scream of disapproval. Clearly, I should have kept that horrifying tidbit to myself. How dare I attempt to pick ripe fruit?

I also affronted her by pushing the cart too slowly. When I sped up, she whacked her back on the cart, which was added injury to insult. It was unforgivable and ohhh did I feel her justifiable fury.

As I waited for her head to stop spinning, I decided to spare the customers the migraines they were acquiring and spare myself the gossip that was budding. I grabbed a few essentials, and made a beeline for the checkout line. Cindy’s lane was the shortest.

As I approached the end of the belt, Cindy looked at me with the sad pouty face adults make when imitating crying children; the last face any mother wants to see at such harried moments.

"Hello, Jenny," she said in a it's-not-your-day, kind of way. "Hello, Cindy,” I said in an Indian accent so she would be confused.

Next time I choose feeding my family over my daughter’s surly mood, I will remind myself that there is a reason fast food is making the youth of America fat. Then I will head to the nearest drive-thru.

That’s my new motto, after giving birth to my second child last month. I had spent much of my pregnancy free of the worries and concerns that marked my first pregnancy. Been there, done that, I thought.

Little did I know there were some curveballs waiting for me this time. Here are a few that took me by surprise, things all expectant moms should keep in mind – even pregnancy veterans.

Check up on your doctors. I blogged just before giving birth that my doctor’s office informed me at the last minute that there was a real possibility that my doctor may not deliver my baby and that the only way to guarantee it would be to schedule a C-section. (She didn’t deliver my baby.)

I didn’t think I’d also be in for a surprise with my pediatrician. About a week before giving birth, I called my pediatrician (my son’s doctor) to let him know that my due date was quickly approaching. That’s when I was told that his medical group was not contracted with the hospital where I was giving birth. What? So who would examine my newborn baby at the hospital? Who would perform the circumcision if I had a boy? (I had a girl.)

In the end, it was the pediatrician on duty at the hospital who checked on my new baby girl. And it may have been for the best (see my second point). But it’s best to sort out these questions well before your due date to avoid a mini-breakdown (like I had) when your hormones are all out of control.

Bones break. I made it through my five-hour labor; held my new baby daughter; heard her first cry. It wasn’t until hours later when one of the nurses whisked away my little girl for yet another battery of routine tests that they returned with the shocking news: My daughter’s right clavicle broke during birth. (Thanks to the neonatal specialist who stood in for my pediatrician for discovering the break, which can go undetected in many newborns.) The doctors chalked it up to her being a big baby. No one looked worried. They seemed more concerned with how I would take the news.

I’m just glad this was my second child, not first. I’ve learned the hard way how resilient babies and children can be. I asked what I needed to do. They said, “Nothing.” Nothing? That’s right. The bone would heal itself and within 3-4 weeks she’d have full range of motion in that arm. I didn’t really believe it. But now, at five weeks old, my daughter is stretching both of her arms up high and pulling my hair so hard it makes me want to cry (literally).

Pay up. Babies are expensive. In all, I’ve paid a total of 8 bills related to my daughter’s birth. Just the birth, not the check-ups that came before or since. Before I left the hospital, I called my healthcare company to make sure it added my daughter to my plan.

As is standard, two days after leaving the hospital, I brought my daughter to my pediatrician for a check-up. After countless conversations and several phone calls, I had to pay out-of-pocket for the visit because my daughter was not yet showing up on my insurance plan. I’m still waiting to get reimbursed. Lesson here: Set aside some money for unexpected bills.

And that ticked her mother off.

"She just stood there and watched," said Renee Womack, the mom. Her response to the incident was not to defend her daughter's inaction, but to hold her just as accountable as the other girls. Womack showed up at her daughter's school and sat in class all day. The lesson was clear: if Womack had to keep an eye on her daughter 24 hours a day to keep her out of trouble, she was going to do it.

Her daughter, now in eighth grade, has not been in trouble since.

Womack recalled that incident when she heard about the burning of Michael Brewer, the 15-year-old Deerfield Beach resident who was set upon by a group of five schoolmates last month. One was directing the attack, according to investigators. Another poured rubbing alcohol on the victim. A third flicked a lighter.

And the other two? Their guilt lies in doing nothing to stop the attack, according to arrest reports released by the Broward Sheriff's Office. Jeremy Jarvis and Steven Shelton watched. And when their friend was literally burning before their eyes, they fled.

And that, in Womack's eyes, makes them just as guilty as the others.

Whether the justice system agrees remains to be seen, but Womack is adamant that they all be held accountable -- even the ones who, as far as is publicly known, just stood there.

Womack went an extra step compared to most who have followed the case, starting an online petition asking the Broward State Attorney's Office to charge the five suspects as adults. As of Friday, the petition gathered more than 880 signatures.

Although she is not a local (originally from Pennsylvania, she now lives in Washington State), Womack felt it important that prosecutors here understand the outrage in this case knows no borders.