Posted by: mindyourknitting | February 20, 2010

Abigail, Updated.

This entire post is about my kid.  So if your eyeballs have now rolled so far back into your head that you’re staring at your frontal lobe, let me temporarily re-direct you to a couple of blogs I’ve started reading recently.  Here is a well-written, clever and often insightful option; and here is a super-creative, hilarious in a “you’re out of your mind” sort of way, always entertaining option.  They are written by people who are not me, if you’re into that sort of thing.  

And now to the main event.  Sunday afternoon Abigail and I were playing in her room, which means she pulls stuff out of drawers and cupboards while I follow her around and pick up that stuff up (more on the ill-effect of this compulsive cleaning later).  Abigail has a child-sized rocking chair that once belonged to her dad, and she  likes to chuck any offending stuffed animals who DARE to sit in it on the floor so that she can wrap her blankie around her shoulders like a well-worn shawl, clamber up into her rocker, and rock back and forth in the time-honoured fashion of spinsters everywhere.  On Sunday she added a little song to this ritual, something that sounded a lot like “Cwro-co-la, me-me-me.”  She repeated this several times, willingly belting it out when I asked her to sing her song, while I tried to figure out what the hell she was saying, since she still sounds like she’s talking with a mouth full of marbles (which she’s not, because those are chokables).    I finally figured it out (picture little musical notes hanging around the words, if you will – oh wait, I just found them, so no picturing necessary): 


Me! Me! Me! ♪ 

And the variant:

Bay-bay-be! ♫ 

She’s had a word for chocolate for a while, even though she doesn’t get it that often …well, she doesn’t get it from us that often, I can’t speak to what shenanigans go on while I’m at work and she’s with Gramma or Oma…  She comes out with her version of “chocolate” at the oddest times: in a rocking chair, in the tub, basically whenever there’s nary a Hershey bar in sight.  It’s similar to “Goldfish” in Abigailese; you have to be fluent in the dialect to pick up on the linguistic nuances and many of her words are food-based (she is her mother’s daughter, after all).  Her vocabulary has really exploded again and some of her new favourite words are open, close, up, chocolate, goldfish, me, and more.  We hear “moah, moah, moah, moah” endlessly.  It’s not as adorable as it sounds.  She wants to know the name of absolutely everything, the little sponge that she is, and she seems to understand just about everything we say.  It’s nuts.  All of a sudden we’re super aware that she gets it when we talk to her.  Which means we have to watch what we say in front of her.  Crap.  Is this where we start s-p-e-l-l-i-n-g out the bad words?  So clearly I meant to say C-r-a-p. 

Getting back to her musical ode to the products of the cocoa bean: this came soon on the heels of her discovery of music and dance, and I’m a little afraid that she has our sense of rhythm, which is no sense of rhythm.  Before the last week or so, when asked to sing she would (tunelessly) holler “Naaa naaa nanana Na Na,” in an attempt to mimic my mom’s fridge magnet’s rendition of Scotland the Brave.  But recently she’s started singing words and quasi-words, and putting them together according to a musical arrangement that seems to make some sort of sense in her little moppet head, andshe’ll repeat these little songs while dancing and clapping.  She has several forms of the dance:  standing, she does either the Abigail rapid-fire soft-shoe/Riverdance, or her version of the white man dance.  Sometimes she adds spastic arm waving if she’s really feeling it.  If she’s sitting down she sways back and forth to the music, resembling a very small, very white Stevie Wonder.  If she’s wearing her oversized pink polka dot sunglasses this only adds to the resemblance.   She was rocking out the other night to Nirvana, and Erik pointed out that by the time she’s old enough to develop her own musical preferences our music will be old fogie music that she’ll mock mercilessly.  

She’s also picked up an odd habit lately – compulsive cleaning.  Not in any helpful way, of course, but she likes to take anything that resembles a dish cloth and wipe the floor with it, while muttering “dirty, dirty.”  She’ll even go so far as to drop something on the floor just so she can wipe it up.  I can’t decide whether this is a healthy attempt at being helpful, or the early manifestation of some sort of neurosis.  If it turns out that she will actually help around the house then I’ll shut up and stop questioning it and enjoy the extra set of hands.  And here’s what else she’s been up to lately: 

Drawing is a new favourite activity...for about four minutes at a time.

I swear she was fully dressed when I strapped her in.

She likes to choose her own accessories. And can now say the word "hat."

She has also started letting me read an entire book to her without getting bored, which I am thrilled about.  The book she will sit through is Goodnight, Moon, which although it is a children’s classic has always seemed sort of pointless to me.  “Goodnight bowl of mush?”  Seriously?  The most exciting thing that’s happened lately, though, is that Abigail now says her name.  If you ask her what her name is, she gleefully shouts “AAAAAAAHHHHH BEEEEEEEEE!!!”  How fun it that?   And I have a phone call in to find out if my mother is the one who taught her to say “good girl” because now we hear “AHHHH BEEEEE!  Good girl!” all the time.  Usually when she’s not.

*If you’re wondering why I’m so darn chipper after so many posts that were all serious and angsty,  I’m pretty sure the obvious answer is that I got TWO whole nights of uninterrupted sleep, followed by a night of only being woken up once, and this came after days of sleep deprivation endless torture.  Apparently the redeeming qualities of sleep cannot be overstated.  Huh.  I have so much energy I’m pretty sure I could write this blog my thesis, bake a cake, and change a diaper all at the same time.  Not that you’d want me to, because, well, ewww.  And also, we’re going out tonight.  I know I must be the last person on earth to see Avatar, but whatever.


  1. I haven’t seen Avatar yet either if it makes you feel better! My nephew was here today (21 Years old) who told me that he has seen it 3 times – once as recently as yesterday (and it was still busy). I told him that a university student shouldn’t have that much money!

  2. I thought Avatar was okay – as most people have said, if you’re going to see it, do it in a theatre because there are some stunning visuals and the 3D effect is pretty neat. I was kind of disappointed by the story (I wasn’t expecting it to be so depressing), and would probably not have been that impressed overall if I had seen it at home.
    As for the income of university students, I think I had more disposable income when I was a full-time student living on loans, part-time teaching and research gigs, and scholarships! I make more money now, but it disappears on the mortgage and diapers instead of movies and beer!

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