Once a month, I empty out the "Green Machine," which is the name for my minivan, and it usually takes a little longer than watching the last two minutes of a March Madness NCAA Basketball game.

Most times, I make about $6 in change and find several important pieces of information strategically written on McDonald's wrappers or ATM receipts.

This most recent adventure, however, yielded only $2.27 in change and ended up costing me over $100 this past weekend. Let me explain.

My daughter's new best friend is a cute and curious cartoon character named Dora the Explorer. Even if you don't know who Dora is, you have seen her gracing the aisles of every retail store known to mankind, and her image is on everything from lunch boxes to DVDs.

Regardless, Dora has a sidekick named Boots, who is an acrobatic blue monkey that wears bright red boots (thus the clever name). Like most kids, my daughter has tiny action figures of Dora, Boots and several other characters from the cartoon. Also like most kids, she likes to take them on car rides, whether it is simply to fill up with gas or travel to the beach.

Here's where the fun begins.

In my haste while cleaning the Green Machine, I went to a local car wash that I wasn't too familiar with. Time was of the essence since there was basketball to watch and the van wasn't as dirty as it normally is.

Prior to washing the van, I pulled out the vacuum and began to clean carpet that was the home to french fries, spilled drinks, pencils, rocks, sand, soot, salt, dirt and other trinkets that summed up my travels over the past month. The vacuum was awesome! It sucked up everything in its sight since there was no plastic cover.

Do you see where this is going yet?

Now, while the following paragraph will be short and succinct, realize the entire scene occurred in slow-motion.

The vacuum ate some jelly beans, a paper clip, three pennies (no big loss) and Boots.

For a brief moment, Boots clung ever so lightly to the dirty steel rim on the outside of the vacuum. I swear that his permanently imprinted smile had turned into a face of horror and angst, kind of like the guy on "Jaws" — Captain Quint — that was about to be eaten while he slid down the deck of the boat toward the great white shark.

"No!" I shouted, dropping the hose and lunging toward the plastic "Off" switch. Only this time, there was no off switch. I was at a different car wash, remember?

The hose hitting the pavement was enough to shake Boots loose from the edge of the vacuum and the pressure pulled him into the tube. It looked like one of Tiger Woods' putts dropping in, only there was no crowd to cheer — only me, and I was ready to cry.

Realizing I could never get the darn thing back, I did the next logical thing any parent of a 2 Qw -year-old would do. I called my wife and told her about the accident. We've remained silent ever since.

The next call was to Ticketmaster. Dora the Explorer was at the Benedum Center this past weekend, and tickets were only $27 per person. A real-life Boots would be there. It was an easy sell for Ticketmaster and an easy fix for me.

My daughter was thrilled, but on the way down to the show, she looked perplexed.

"What's wrong honey?" my wife asked. I knew this was going to be bad.

"Where's Boots, mommy?"

"I'm sure she's somewhere. Do you want some pretzels to snack on?"

Ah, the great diversion technique made famous by my father in 1973. Excellent!

"Sure. Thanks for taking me to see Dora, Daddy."

Dora the Explorer tickets: $108. Plastic boots in the vacuum: $8. A happy daughter: Priceless.