We eventually located Sole di Sesta and came smack up against lesson five: Use a rental agent who takes the time to conscientiously and comprehensively explain potential pitfalls. For although Sole di Sesta is a clean, tastefully furnished farmhouse with immaculate grounds, its own vineyard and olive groves, panoramic views of Chianti's crazy-quilt landscape, and an English-speaking house manager who could not have been more competent, it also has spiky medieval-style door latches that could blind a toddler; a treacherous terra-cotta-tiled staircase; an open-hearth fireplace; and a crib with sides so low that a junior commando could easily surmount them at 3 a.m., make a beeline for the door latches, catapult down the stairs, and end up in the fireplace.

Moreover, a top-notch villa agent would have forewarned me that many Italian villas, even expensive ones owned by nobility, don't provide bath soap, shampoo, and other amenities routinely supplied at a hotel. Lesson six: Use an agent who advises you what to bring, what to leave behind, and what extra costs you will be expected to bear. Had I been told to bring 150 euros in cash for the cook, I wouldn't have had to scramble for an ATM. Had I been told that heating costs an extra forty-four dollars a day, I would have budgeted for keeping the house warm at night. Had I been told that the European DVD player couldn't accommodate American discs, I wouldn't have wasted precious luggage space on episodes of Thomas the Tank Engine.

One way to suss out such things in advance is to use an agent who sends you a portion of the villa's "house book." This binder usually awaits you at the villa and provides operating instructions for appliances and utilities, useful phone numbers, and insider tips about the area; it also lists fees not included in the rental price. Lesson seven: Use a rental agent who writes and updates this book herself, edits what the owner writes, or can otherwise vouch that the information is accurate, comprehensive, and comprehensible. The Sole di Sesta house book did not explain how to operate the dishwasher or the washer/dryer or how to turn on the heat. It listed satellite television stations such as CNN that we did not get. It referred us to the same nonexistent house manager listed on our instruction sheet. Most strange, it was written not by JCJourneys but by another British agency, CV Travel. Checking in on us a few days later, the villa's owner, Mrs. Bolfo, unraveled this mystery: Sole di Sesta is rented by more than one agency. JCJourneys had improperly listed the house manager employed by CV Travel. For JCJourneys clients, the house manager is Mrs. Bolfo's personal assistant, Vanda. As it turned out, this was not only the first time JCJourneys had ever rented the villa but also the first time Vanda had ever served as a house manager!

And boy, did we keep her busy. When there was no hot water on the first night, she called the plumber. When one bathroom was flooded because the shower door didn't seal properly, she called him back. The television didn't work, so she had it replaced—to no avail, since the satellite didn't work either. The dishwasher and toaster also broke. But all of this paled in comparison with the inconvenience caused by the combination washer/dryer, which alternated between dysfunctional and unfathomable. Wearing tomato sauce, chocolate gelato, and farm muck for a week didn't bother my sons, of course, but it bothered me that JCJourneys neglected to point out two things that seasoned Italian-villa specialists never fail to note. First, that water is a precious commodity in Italian country homes, and using it willy-nilly for laundry, showers, or anything else is strongly discouraged. Second, that dryers are rare, and dryers that actually dry clothes even rarer, so expect to hang your laundry outdoors on clotheslines (which we could not do because of the constant drizzle). Had I known these things ahead of time, I would not have packed so light.