“Want Mytar, mama, want Mytar!” Sophia requested early Sunday morning.
“Mytar, what’s that baby?” I asked her.
“MYTAR!!!” She was extremely adamant about “Mytar” so Bill and I did our best to decode.
“Monster?” Bill asked.
“NO Daddy! MYTAR!” she retorted.
We went back and forth for at least five minutes, trying to figure out what she was talking about. Spouting off every “M” word we could think of that she could be looking for. She responded to each and every one in frustration and just kept repeating “NO! MYTAR!”
By this point she climbed on the couch and started digging behind the cushions.
“Mytar, peasss mama, mytar!”
Suddenly it hit me. She had been playing with a little matchbox race car earlier that morning.
“Do you want your CAR Sophia?” I asked her, digging it out of the couch and holding it up for her.
“YESSSS Mama! MYTAR! Than-yew!” she smiled as I gave it to her.
So for future reference. MyTar= My Car.