“Mama play cars with me. Will you play cars with me? Play cars, Mama!”

“Ok, Bug I’ll play cars - which ones do I get?”

“You get Daddy’s birthday truck and the ambulance and I get the race car and the blue open top car.”

“Ok, Bug - my cars are going to race this way! Let’s go!”

“No. Mama, our cars are hungry. They want ice cream.”

“Alright, let’s go get ice cream then. What flavor are you going to get, blue open top car?”

“No, Mama! There’s no ice cream shop car to give us ice cream! We have to find ice cream shop car!”

“Ok, is it this yellow car?”

“No.”

“Um, is it this green car?”

“No, Mama, it’s the hot dog car! We have to find it!”

(We search. And search. And search. Upend cushions. Shine flashlights under beds.)

“I found it! I found it Mama!”

“Yay! Ok let’s have ice cream! Hot Dog car, I’ll take Rocky Road.” (’cause I’m a car, get it? So much of my humor is lost on a two year old.)

“We’re closed.” (says Hot Dog car)

“Wha-?”

And that was the end of playing cars.