About now, in the dreary depths of winter, I begin to dream of a vacation in Hawaii. Or Mexico. Somewhere warm, anywhere warm, where the kids don't have to be submerged in layers of clothing.

"Put on your boots. Zip up your jacket. No, you can't go outside without a hat." I sound just like my mother as I holler at my 3 1/2-year-old daughter.

Give me a beach vacation, with just a swimsuit and sunscreen to worry about. But this winter, money and time has kept my family closer to home: our vacation has been a couple of days cross-country skiing in Washington.

But whether it's two weeks somewhere tropical or a snowy weekend close to home, many of the same strategies apply for traveling peacefully with a young child. Some techniques we've learned in our travels with Stephanie:

Are we there yet? Five minutes out of the driveway, the back-seat refrain begins: "When will we be there? . . . I need to pee . . . I'm hungry . . ."

Car and plane rides are tough for young kids - they're genetically incapable of sitting still. My husband and I roll out the diversions: cassette tapes, snacks, books, toys. So far, tapes have worked best; they can buy an hour of peace while Stephanie croons along.

Everything but the kitchen sink - Our daughter is a packrat who wants to take everything with her on a trip (she's a kid who takes three security blankets to bed). So we've made a deal; she can fill her kid-sized day-pack with toys of her choice and carry along one or two teddies. That's it. (I do a discreet check on what she's packed and make some occasional revisions.)

Get a sink - Eating three meals a day at restaurants with a squirming child is a recipe for disaster. It also gets expensive. We try for accommodations with a kitchenette; a one-bedroom suite is my idea of heaven on the road.

At times, though, we end up in a motel room with just a mini-bar. I have no shame: I empty the mini-bar and stock it with our own (store-bought and much cheaper) fruit juice, milk and snacks. If there's a coffee-maker in the room we're all set, at least for breakfast.

Pool it - I'm forever in search of a place with a swimming pool, or at least a hot tub. In the evening, it's far better to frolic in the water than be cooped up in a motel room with a small child. If a place with a pool is too costly or not available, search out a public pool.

In Vancouver, B.C. (one of our frequent weekend destinations), the University of British Columbia pool is open to the public, mostly in the the evenings, and is one of the best facilities I've seen: lap swimming; play area for kids; hot tub; sauna and weight room. It costs Cdn. $3 for an adult (about $2.25); half that for a child. Phone (604) 822-4521 for information.

There are spartan, but perfectly fine, low-cost accommodations on campus, too, through the UBC Conference Center, including one-bedroom suites with kitchens for about $55 in winter. Phone (604) 822-1010.

In just about any North American town, even the little ones, there's a public pool. In Moab, Utah, we stayed in a $50-a-night place just a half-block from a playground and city pool that provided hours of fun.

Location, location - As in real estate, location is all important. In big cities, I look for a motel or hotel with "walk-ability" - where we can park our car, forget about it and walk to a park and major sights. (There's nothing like getting stuck in traffic and arguing over directions to get the family snarling.)

I also search out a "kid-friendly" place to stay: B&Bs or historic inns, with their thin walls, antiques and enforced intimacy, are out for now.

When planning a ski trip to the Methow Valley in eastern Washington, I longingly remembered Sun Mountain Lodge's luxurious rooms and elegant restaurant.

But we stayed there in our pre-child days: I couldn't picture a candlelit, slow-paced dinner in the company of a 3 1/2-year old. So for this winter's trip we'll look for a family-oriented place - somewhere where we can eat dinner in our long underwear.

On ski vacations, my ideal is a place within spitting distance of the lifts or the cross-country trails.

But check, and double-check, with travel agents and the hotel about what "ski-in, ski-out" or "walking distance to the

slopes" really means. At times they stretch the truth - and some hotel/condos are so big that some rooms are a long walk from the slopes even if the place is touted as ski-in, ski-out.

On beach vacations, my dream is to have the sand start right out the door and an uninterrupted view of the ocean. But such rooms are often too pricey. If opting for a place that's billed as "walking distance to the beach," again, get the specifics on the distance. Five blocks can be painfully far with a tired toddler.

If you do splurge, watch out for the distinctions between "ocean-view" and "oceanfront." In Hawaii, we booked an "ocean-view" room. Yes, we could see the sea - if we stood on the balcony, leaned out to the right and peered between two other buildings. Next time we splurge, we'll specify "oceanfront."

Look for Kristin Jackson's "Kidding Around" on the first Sunday of the month in The Seattle Times travel section. Comments and advice from readers are welcome. Write Kristin Jackson, Seattle Times Travel Dept., P.O. Box 70, Seattle, WA 981111. Please include a daytime phone.