Scott M. Stringer is busy. Manhattan borough president. Mayor maybe. A son. A husband. A father. His only free time — 7:30 a.m.

He served his own brewed coffee, his wife’s homemade muffins and a takeout fruit cup. Shoeless, half-dressed for the day, Himself had a tie on his neck and a 7 1/2 -month-old baby on his lap.

Art major Elyse, married two years, is gorgeous. Max, however, resembles Daddy. And his huge bicycle-like toy dominated the two-bedroom West Side rental living room. “Elyse breastfeeds, and I make Max’s cereal. We do mornings with him. I’m 52 and bathe and diaper him and do his bottle unless there’s an 8 a.m. appointment. Besides running around the city, I have certain daddy hours.”

Elyse: “I’m up 6 a.m. I work at Cooper-Hewitt. It’s a balancing act. I love my husband and my son, and the challenge is scheduling . . . what time’s your meeting . . . how late you working . . . who’s doing the doctor’s appointment. I do the cooking.” Daddy: “But I chop.” Mommy: “But I clear and do the garbage.”

Both: “The baby’s room once was Scott’s study. We’re not rich, so we try to save on $9.50-an-hour baby sitters. Elyse has 15 first cousins with 22 kids. Sometimes someone from this little army helps out.”

Scott: “Can’t focus on the mayoral race until after the presidential election. But if it happens, he’ll become first baby of New York.” I missed him discussing the MTA because at the mention of the MTA Max began screaming.” Me, too.

Elyse: “Six weeks after we moved in, there was a fire. Displaced, we moved to the East Side for months in the midst of the Second Avenue subway mess and a giant crane crash. Couldn’t cross the street. Couldn’t cook. Dinner was in a local store.” Scott: “We’ll have the Second Avenue subway when Max is mayor.”

WYCLEF Jean will do his thing Oct. 29. Thurgood Marshall College Fund Awards . . . In ’83, Tony Martin looked to celebrate 50 years in showbiz with the one-man show “Music of a Matinee Idol.” But didn’t. Anyone but me remember he was then offered the lead in “Fiddler” on tour? My late friend said to me: “Can you believe, Tevye Martin”? . . . DC’s Mostess Hostess Buffy Cafritz, who throws every presidential inauguration party for whichever president since Coolidge’s day, got a 3-month-old Yorkie. Name him Barack? Mitt? No, Timmy Tebow.

‘THE Bourne Identity” has an identity crisis. Bourne again, its 400th incarnation is now out with “The Bourne Legacy.”

And how great are its stars treated? At its Ziegfeld premiere Stacy Keach dripped perspiration. So how good’s this movie? “Dunno. I haven’t seen it. I wasn’t invited to screenings. Friends who saw it said I’m fantastic — naturally. I play a retired navy admiral and still not sure if I’m a good guy or bad guy. I never read the books, but its films captured my attention. Loved them.”

Ed Norton. So how good’s this movie? “I don’t know. They didn’t send us any advance screeners. I don’t mind. I love showing up at openings. I, of course, play the important role of a retired colonel. Badass villain. We shot in the Philippines. I love these films. I’ve seen every one of them. This is great for the franchise.”

Rachel Weisz’s dress had a side split. You could see up to next Wednesday. Last year’s fashion was pants. This year, skirts. Diagonal uneven hemlines. Short in front, long in back, one side short, another long, V on one side, U on the other. See-through. Strips like a hula dancer. Flashing thighs, legs, behinds, females looked like a takeout deli. You didn’t know which cut of meat to pick. Some even wore shorts. Years ago my grandma would have hemmed those shmattas.

POLAND’s Lech Walesa received Mitt Romney. In ’89 me, too. I was told not to mention his name on a phone. His Gdansk address was not given to me. I was escorted to his simple gray wood house on a simple street distinguished by a military car and satellite dish. Wife Danuta’s T-shirt said “Travel and Leisure.” Her shopping bag — “Baccarat.”

In the backyard, she said through an interpreter, “Here’s where I entertained President and Mrs. Bush. A tiring preparation. Friends cooked food. Others helped clean and vacuum.”

Later her consummate pro husband, who knows exactly what he’s doing, wore jeans, gold rings, looked bored, shook hands routinely, signed autographs, but turned on for our TV. Kissed babies, kissed ladies, beamed, joked, hugged me. I was window dressing — part of his p.r. gambit.

“America did my son Slawek good. He studied English and came home better behaved.” Having interviewed Slawek, I said he seemed mostly to be studying blondes. Said Walesa, “Next year I send another son, Bogdan. And when I come, I will personally kiss every woman. But we Polish men like to make babies. I only hope American ladies can take it.”

Maybe Mitt had a better interview.

ACTORS Temple rabbi Jill Hausman daily motorbikes to work. Wears the regulation helmet. Warned to be careful, Miss Rabbi Hausman, saving her congregation’s souls, replied: “I pray while riding.”

Only in New York, kids, only in New York.