"NO, no, no, no! Not the cowboy pajamas! NO, NO, NO!" OKAY! This time holding the pajamas over my nose, I dart back into the trenches for leggings and a sweatshirt, very chic.

The ludicrousness of all this is really rolling around in me now. I laugh harder as I throw on a robe and start pulling fans out of every closet, starting them up for their pre-season inauguration. Fans, open windows and doors, it's bloody freezing in here! I beat a path back to the kitchen. The pot has stopped smoking so I put it into the sink with hot water running into it.

As I sprint back to the bedroom (who needs the marathon?), Annii-Ming has wriggled off the bed and is lying on the floor, her cheek hugging the rug as if trying to access the only oxygen left. In truth she has vomited more blueberry stain all over the only thing of serious value in my house, my beige Turkish rug.

I tell Anni she'll have to sleep in my bed, which she likes enormously.

"Here are some books to look at while I go clean your night clothes," and I'm off to the kitchen to get the water boiling for my Hints From Heloise berry-stain combat.

YIKES! OHMYGOD! OH NO!! The water is still running into the pan in the sink. Some of the goo has come loose and clogged the drain. The sink is on the brink of overflowing with dark chocolate brown mud. It's an evil sight. I count my blessings; it could be flooding down the cupboard onto the floor through to the neighbor's ceiling by now. Things could actually be worse! I do damage control and fill the teapot for my Heloise project; pour boiling water through the stains. It works every time…except on carpets.

Back to my room (where's the skateboard when you need it?) to pull the nightstand away from the bed, lay big pillows and my down comforter on the floor by Anni's side. This is her first time sleeping in a "big girl bed" and mine is high off the ground. I want her fall to be cushioned. After tucking her in, singing a scant three sleepytime tunes and exchanging our nighttime sign-off, "Wo ai Anni-Ming", "Wo ai Mama" ("I love you" in Chinese), I beeline back to the kitchen, the teapot whistling.

It occurs to me that with my luck, she'll roll to my side of the bed and off the edge, hitting the radiator and splitting her head open on the way down. Okay, so my imagination and my humor are a bit on the dark side. They aren't as black as the two inches of nuclear waste in the pan I just rescued from a suicidal leap off the 15th floor. I acknowledge that this pan will probably have to go the way of its predecessor-the blue bin in the back hall.

I hear the voice of my second grade teacher, Mrs. Arnold saying,
"It is extremely important in life to learn to read carefully and follow directions exactly. It will save you so much trouble." I know she's right - I skipped the double boiler. Maybe next time I'll just get Dimetapp.