I suppose I could start by talking about the sled. About why it is that Nathaniel has hardly gotten to use it since I bought it for him the winter that he was three years old. Why there's never enough snow to go cross-country skiing anywhere within an hour's drive of New York. Why the grown-ups keep talking about how strange the weather is these days, why they shrug their shoulders and look at each other sadly on warm winter afternoons.

The prospect of breaking the news about global warming to your five-year-old is an unsettling one. I'd like to think that I'll have some control over the moment that he learns about the scope of the threat, but I know from past experience that he could pick up the hints before I think he's ready.

Kids notice things-things like the pictures of polar bears in the newspapers, standing on shrinking chunks of ice. Kids like polar bears. They want to know why polar bears are stranded in the middle of the ocean. They are smart enough to ask: How will they keep from drowning?

I know that my son won't be able to understand the extent of the problem until he's a little older, but he's already interested in the science of weather, and the questions are starting. I believe in answering my kid's questions. The problem in this particular case is that I don't have the answers.

When I was Nathaniel's age, there was a different threat to the future of human civilization. It was called nuclear war. I don't remember when I first learned about it, but I remember how it seeped into my dreams.

I remember how I wanted to hide from information about atom bombs, and how at the same time I couldn't stay away from it. When I was in my early teens, I read Hiroshima by John Hersey in one sitting, and I was so spooked that I threw the book into the back of my closet and couldn't touch it for months afterward.

But there is an important difference between the threat of nuclear war and the threat of climate change. There was nothing any of us-children or adults-could do about the megatons of explosives that lurked in bunkers on opposite sides of the globe. Only the big, powerful men at the top could make any changes in the system of mutually assured destruction. Finally, thank god, they backed off, and it seemed like civilization was safe.

Then along came climate change.

Here's where the difference lies: Every one of us can do something to reduce the greenhouse gases that are causing the threat. We know that. The question has become whether enough of us have the will to do what needs to be done.

I've read a couple of studies recently about how children are reacting to the perils that face the planet. Both come from the United Kingdom, where the general public awareness of climate change is far higher than it is in the United States. One poll showed that half of children between the ages of seven and 11 were anxious about the effects of global warming, often to the point of losing sleep over it. The other showed that while half of 11- to 17-year-olds surveyed were concerned, only 12 percent thought that their personal actions could make a difference.

Obviously, I don't want my son to lie awake at night worrying about the end of the world. But I don't want him to succumb to fatalism or apathy, either.

So what am I going to do about it?

Change my own habits and talk with my son about the changes. I bought a rack to air-dry our laundry instead of using the tumble dryer. We're running our air conditioners as little as possible and improving our home's insulation. We're switching over to compact fluorescent bulbs. We gave up our car, which we used only for trips out of town anyway. We ride our bikes, we walk, we take the bus, we take the subway. When we have to use a car, we rent.

As I make these adjustments, I talk with Nathaniel about them. It's not always smooth going.

Me: "OK, Nathaniel, want to help me hang up the laundry?"

Nathaniel: "No. I'm tired."

Me: "Oh, come on, honey. It's fun. Plus it saves energy, which is really good for the planet."

Nathaniel hangs up one shirt and throws himself on the floor, exhausted by the effort.

Me (continuing to hang up laundry): "See? This is so easy! And we're saving energy!"

Teach him that there are positive paybacks to reducing energy consumption. I explain that walking and riding bikes makes us strong and healthy. I also make sure that he knows that by saving money on fuel and electricity, we have more to spend on things we like.

Me: "Come on, honey, let's get the bikes ready and we'll ride to the pool."

Nathaniel: "I'm tired. And it's really hot. I wish we had a car."

Me: "Hey, it'll be really fun. It's good exercise, and we're not polluting or clogging up the street."

Nathaniel: "I don't want to."

Me: "With the money we save on gas, I'll buy you an ice cream."

Nathaniel: "Where's my helmet?"

Try to instill a sense of respect and responsibility for his immediate environment. I often pick up litter when I see it on the street or in a park. Nathaniel understands that clean streets-and clean air and water-are a communal project. Now I just have to worry about him getting into trouble when he tells grown-ups on the street to put their trash in the garbage can instead of on the sidewalk.

Help him to see the big picture. Nathaniel often asks me to buy fancy bottled water when we're out and about, because he likes the packaging.

Nathaniel: "Mom, I want Fiji water."

Me: "We don't buy that, honey. It doesn't make any sense to fly water all the way from Fiji and burn zillions of gallons of fuel when we have really good tap water here."

Nathaniel (pouting): "The label is pretty."

Me: "I know, sweetheart, that's how they try to convince you to buy it. But we have our own nice bottle of water from home."

Nathaniel (tantrum approaching): "I want the bottle with the pretty flowers."

Me (tantrum approaching): "Look, I'll put a dinosaur sticker on ours. Does that make you happy? Does it?"

I know it won't be long before he starts adding up all the things he's heard and starts asking the hard questions. When that time comes, I will answer him with the best factual information I have at my disposal. But I think that he's already learning that he has the power to make a difference with his own choices, and I hope that will make him feel better about the future.

He's already making me feel better. The other day, we were standing on the corner holding hands and watching the traffic go by, waiting to cross the street. He turned to me and said, "Mom, wouldn't it be great if all these people were riding bikes instead of cars? Imagine that."

That's right, kiddo. Imagine that.

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