When Captain Disaster disappears for more than thirty seconds, a rescue party has to be dispatched to find him. Their stated goal is to learn just how much of the house he has destroyed at speeds worthy of a special ops team, and to recover him bodily to the home base.
Often the process of location is prolonged into a series of tantalizing discoveries that may be either hopeful or sinister. For instance, it may happen that he is neither climbing the pantry shelves in search of edible goods nor in the bathroom; better yet if there is no water on the floor. Check those finds off on the hopeful side, but a choice then lies before you. You must next determine whether to hone in on the back of the house (death by electrocution, death by falling off the horse, the bunkbed, or the stairs, and death by choking on legos), or the front (with its knives in the dishwasher, its climbable tables and bookshelves, and--most horrifying of all--its litterbox).
Weigh the choices carefully, but not for long. It will always be worth your time and division of manpower to send a scouting party upstairs. Meanwhile, he isn't messing with the bird cage. That's good; shut that door behind you and check the girls' room off the list. Astonishingly, he isn't on the stairs. That leaves Mama's room and the boys' room. In this particular instance, a glance in the latter reveals our missing man, wearing a flamboyantly guilty expression, holding a bar of soap he swiped from the bathroom, and hastily plugging in the fan.