Category Archives: Abby-ism

Mutilations of phrases and funny sayings

Crocs is Shoes

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Abby has these foamy shoes called Crocs (Crocs on Amazon – for picture purposes, I don’t expect you to be buying these 😉 ). She loves them and she actually gets comments on them at times. I write that to say this: last night we were eating dinner at P.F. Changs and a man was seated at the table next to us. He had a serious looking contraption attached to his left knee. I believe the reason was that his left calf and foot were missing as they had been amputated. His other foot was wearing a Croc shoe.

Abby, not seeing the missing foot (because it was missing, not that she didn’t notice it was missing) saw the other foot wearing the croc and said, “He’s missing a croc.” I love my daughter!

Special Sauce

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For the record, fine employees of “Old McDonald’s” [as Abby calls it], the special sauce ceases to be special when my hamburger patties are swimming in it.

That is all… please carry on, only with less ‘special’ sauce.

An Easy Mistake

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Abby just got up out of bed (it is bed time). She called out, “Daddy! Daddy! Did you hear the ant?” I replied in the negative. She said, “I heard the ant. I made a mistake with the ant and the airplane.” I asked if she mistook the airplane for an ant. “Yeah, I thought the airplane was an ant, Daddy.”

An easy mistake – one we could all make 🙂

Axitude

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Yesterday morning after her swimming lessons Abby came in and said, “Daddy, I have an axitude.”

Which is totally right, if you don’t go the Abby way, she cuts you off 🙂 Apparently she’s been using an ax the whole time.

The Piano Movers are Coming

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The Piano movers bring with them an old piano from the year 1372 and a half, predating all other pianos by several hundred years. Actually, it’s not that old. It is however the piano I composed quite a few original tunes on – none of which I can play any longer because its been so long since I had a piano in my possession. The piano was given to my parents by Christopher Columbus upon arriving in California. They traded it to him for some corn, wheat and fish. He said, “Though canst have mine pinano [SIC] if thine food doth sustaineth me.” Which, for a Italian was pretty good English. My parents, being 20th century metropolitan folks said to each other, “This guy must have been hanging out with all of the other hippies – I can’t understand most of what he is saying.”

And so the piano became a family heirloom.

I am looking forward to having this piano in my home until my parents get another dwelling that they can store such things in. It will give me a chance to polish up my chops so that I can sound like ‘Fats’ Waller, ‘Fats’ Domino and many other Adkins diet inspired piano players. I also hope to play a little Tchaikovski, as Victor Borge said, very little.

You see, I’m a lazy bum when it comes to playing sheet music. My sister-in-law Becca plays very well and is quite accomplished. I measure my accomplishments differently simply because if I look that far up in the piano world I get a kink in my neck and I have to go immediately to Boardwalk, pay $200.00 passing ‘Go’ and then head straight to the Chiropractor. So, I play, I have fun, and I mash up my favorite Beatles Piano hits with the mirriad Beasty Boy piano hits until no one recognizes it… then I call it Jazz.

I’ll try to record some of this ‘so called’ music some time.

Update: It’s hear, and in as sound a coundition as this piano can be. The movers were quick, courteous, and tried not to make fun of this shabby old ‘pinano’.

Post Script: Abby calls it a ‘pinano’.

Two Abby-isms

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This morning Abby got the ‘unk.’ That is to say she used two words that had ‘unk’ in them. The first was that she wanted peanut butter on her toast, but without the ‘junks.’ That’s chunks for you readers who were concerned with junky peanut butter (read:partially hydrogenated vegetable oils).

Then, she listened to our discussion about paint in the kitchen and she said, “That’s a good color. It’s funky.”

I can feel the James Brown coming on my iTunes now.

Short Tales

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This morning after watering the flowers with me, Abby asked me to sit down with her on the front steps because she wanted to talk. This of course if most father’s dream come true. I hope that we have ‘talks’ for years until Jesus returns or I die. She of course didn’t want to talk about boys, the meaning of life or breakfast, but instead she proceeded to tell me stories. She told me about a little girl names Abby, a story about Grandpa and Grandma (no last name given, so if you’re a grandparent reading this, pretend it’s you), and one story that started like this:

Once upon a time there was a little boy called my daddy…

Which she never finished, but it tickles me to be that boy 🙂

YAA (Yet Another Abbyism)

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This morning while snuggling with Jessica in bed Abby said, “Tonight, we’re going to Africa. It will be great!”

Upon further interogation we discovered that she wanted to go to “Newspaper Africa.” After asking what newspaper Africa was like she explained the process:
1) You go to Africa (makes sense)
2) You get purple stuff from Jamba Juice and
3) You pour the Jamba Juice on nasty things

She had me tracking until the third step.

As you can tell I’ve been a little short on adult interaction for a while so I’ve not been posting a lot about things outside of the home.

Fowl Twist

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This last week Jessica requested I get her some lemon head candies. Being either really weak willed or incredibly in love with her I got her some. I had taken Abby with me to the store to buy them and had explained that they were ‘lemon heads.’ Abigail got home later on that evening with me and as Jessica was sucking on them Abigail asked if she too could suck on a ‘chicken head.’ Not quite the same thing.