Not a swirling vortex before breakfast again!

I’m going to try something a little different.  I’m feeling a little quirky today, so I’m going to switch up my style a little bit.  Today, instead of telling you something that has happened in the life of Jodi, Jordan and I, I’m going to just make up a story as I’m typing.  There is no premeditation about what the content of this story is; I am literally making this up as I go along.  I warn you, it will be random, it will be weird and out there.  That should be all the more reason to read it right?  So, hold on to your brains, because I am about to blow your minds!

This morning started off as any normal morning, with me sleeping.  That’s where the normality ended.  I heard whispering coming through the baby monitor, it was too low for me to understand, so I did what any awesome person would do.  I yelled “STEAMROLLER!!!”, then proceeded to roll over the top of Jodi and off of her side of the bed, because that is the side of the bed the monitor is on.  Jodi awoke, completely confounded by what just happened, and immediately asked me for some taffy cookies and milk.  I, of course, told her that the dog ate the last of the taffy cookies and the cat drank the milk, which is absurd because we don’t have a cat or a dog, and if we did I would definitely not let the dog eat my taffy cookies, everybody knows that dogs prefer vanilla wafers.  Anyway, I digress, back to the whispering in the monitor.  I could hear it every so slightly, it wasn’t Jordan’s voice at all, it was actually the voice of Abraham Lincoln and he was reciting the ever so famous Gettysburg Address.  That’s odd, I thought, why is Abraham Lincoln up so early?  I decided to go ask him myself, so I dashed up the stairs and into the room of my favorite 3 year old.  Upon entering the room I noticed three things:  first, I noticed that Jordan’s room was a mess; second, I noticed that it was rather windy in his room, which explains the mess;  and finally, I noticed that there was a giant purplish, blackish, swirly vortex, complete with lighting and thunder, where his window should have been.  This, I thought, was also very strange because I was absolutely positive that I had turned the vortex off last night when I tucked Jordan in.  This, obviously, was very bad.  Do you have any idea how much it costs to run a giant swirly vortex all night?  Jodi is going to tan my hide when she finds out that I left the vortex on again.
Oh dear.
I noticed a fourth thing.
Jordan’s bed was empty.
I yelled downstairs “Babe!  Jordan has gone into the vortex again, I’m going to have to go get him.  Can you make me some pancakes?!”
Without waiting for an answer I plugged my nose and jumped into the vortex.
Why did I plug my nose you ask?  That’s a silly question.  Obviously, you have never gotten vortexaplasmic goo up your nose, it is quite unpleasant, almost as unpleasant as gum in your hair;  which is coincidental, because peanut butter is the solution to both problems.
Going through a vortex the first time is terrifying, but once you get used the spinning, and flipping and you learn how to handle vortex gnomes and can keep them from tying your shoes together it’s actually quite enjoyable.  This particular vortex ride was just splendid.  Had it been a little longer, though, I would have definitely upgraded to first class so I could enjoy a nice meal while I traveled.  Maybe lobster or boiled goose, then again, I’m rather in the mood for Jodi’s tilapia piccata.  If you’ve never had Jodi’s tilapia piccata I suggest you try it someday, it is soooooo scrumptious.
You keep distracting me from my story, shame on you!
Okay, so, upon exiting the vortex I am immediately confronted by a 35 foot tall tyrannosaurus rex, in full roar, inches from my face.  What do you do in a situation such as this?  Well, in the movie Jurassic Park, I believe they said to hold still because the t-rex has trouble seeing anything that isn’t moving.  That’s a complete fallacy, they can see quite well whether an object is moving or not.  Otherwise, they would be terrible at basketball, which I can assure you, they are not; despite having tiny arms, the t-rex seem to have a talent for the sport.  So, what do I do when face to face with a roaring t-rex?  The same thing I always do.
“Nice try, George, you’ll have to wake up a lot earlier to get the jump on me.”
“Come on, you know I scared you, just a little?  Maybe I made your heart jump just slightly?”  responded the t-rex with a British accent.
Please don’t tell me you didn’t know that all tyrannosaurs spoke with a British accent, you really are ignorant aren’t you?  Don’t tell George that he has an accent though, he’s rather sensitive about it and insists that it is the rest of the world that speaks with an accent and not the tyrannosaurs.
“Nope sorry George.  We still on for Thursday?”  I asked.
“Yep, Margaret, the kids and I will be there around 6.  I forgot, though, are we bringing salad or a casserole?”
“Hmmm… I can’t remember, I’ll have Jodi shoot you a text and let you  know later today.  You haven’t seen Jordan around here have you?  I left the vortex on again last night and Jordan wandered off.”
My scale covered British friend replied, “Oh dear, Jodi is going to mad when she finds out you left that vortex on again.  You really should think of upgrading to one of the new Energy Star compliant vortex’s.  Then, it wouldn’t be such a big deal when you left it on all night.”
“I know, I know, I know.  But have you seen Jordan?  I really am in kind of a hurry.”
“Nope, sorry Jeremy, I haven’t seen him, but if I do I’ll tell him to head straight home.”
“Alright, thank you George.  See you on Thursday.”

I continued on my merry way in search for my rogue three year old.  I stopped by all of his usually hang outs.  First was the frog tag arena, where instead of using laser guns to tag people, you each carry a frog, and when you get somebody  in your sights you give your frog a slight squeeze and he will shoot his or her tongue out.  Five tags and you are out until only one person is left standing.  This game originated in ancient Greece, but back then they used poison frogs and they fought to the death.
Next stop was the Fakery.  It’s like a bakery, but everything is fake, so you can’t really eat any of it.  But, seeing as how Jordan loves playing with fake food it is one of his favorite spots.
Jordan was at neither of these places, so I continued down the street until I got to the sloth track.  Obviously, this is where they have the sloth races.  Terribly boring, as I’m sure you could have surmised.  They have yet to complete their first race and the track has been open for twenty three years.  What everybody doesn’t know is that the owners of the track collected bets for the first ten years then split town.  Everybody is going to be extremely angry when, or if, this race every finishes.
No Jordan here either.  Hmmmm….
LIGHTBULB!
I immediately knew where he was and headed in that direction.  Two blocks over and one block up, on the corner of Pumpernickel Ave and Gertrude St., there he was.  Sitting amongst four extremely elderly men, whom you may know, was my favorite little guy in his Buzz Lightyear pajamas and clutching a Spiderman doll.
“Theo, Abe, Tom, Wash.  How you guys doing this morning?”
“Just fine.” replied Abraham Lincoln “We’ve been expecting you.  We had a bet going to see how long it would take you to get here.  Jordan won… again.  Which is pretty amazing, since he doesn’t understand the value of minutes and seconds and hours.”
“Is that true Jordan?”  I asked my son.
“Yes, daddy, but Wash was close.  Did you stop by Mrs. Hippos house?”
“Nope, not today, I knew she was out of town.”  I replied.
“I knew it!  That’s another five bucks for me Tom!  Haha!”  Jordan exclaimed.
“Well, are you ready to get going?  Momma is making pancakes.”
“Yippeeeeee!  Pancakes!  I’ll see ya later guys!”
And with that Jordan took off.  Not running, as you would expect.  He literally TOOK OFF.  Like, he flew away, with a jet pack(courtesy of Santa).
I’m never going to beat him home now.  I ran as fast as I could run, which definitely wasn’t going to be fast enough, but I needed to remind Jordan not to tell his mother that I left the vortex on.  The vortex came into view as I rounded the last corner and I saw Jordan disappear into it.  Drat!  Please don’t tell her, please don’t tell her, please don’t tell her.  This was my mantra, said in time with each step I took all the way back to and through the vortex.  Please don’t tell her please don’t tell her please don’t tell her.
I emerged from the vortex just in time to hear the words that sealed my fate.
“Momma, Daddy left the vortex on all night again!”
Little tattle-tale.
I smelled the pancakes and looked longingly down the hallway where that heavenly smell originated from and where my punishment, also, was waiting for me.  Then I looked back at the swirling vortex…Sloth Track doesn’t sound so bad right now, then I stepped through.