We nearly forgot to post the biggest news of all for this past week! Just in time for his first birthday, Andrew has taken his first unassisted steps. Dan and I were encouraging Andrew to try and walk from one of us to the other--and a couple of times he actually did it! Of course, he also fell over many more times than he walked. He's developed this rather funny habit of tilting over backwards with his knees locked (kind of like a trust fall) when he tries to walk forward.

We don't have too much to report this week (and anyway, most of our faithful readers will be seeing us within the next week or so). Dan spent longer than usual hours at work this week (hopefully to good effect!), which meant that Andrew got to spend more time than usual with his mother--a mixed blessing for both, I'm sure. In the build-up to Christmas, everything else seems kind of "blah"; Dan and I both spent a lot of time this week trying to tie up loose ends before we head home for the holidays (extra hours at the writing center [although most of those early in the week were left open, thus the extra hours Dan had at work], more experiments, last-minute Christmas shopping, one more revision of dissertation chapters, etc.). All of which kept us quite busy, but none of which makes for interesting blog reading!

Andrew continues to devise new ways to tear apart the house. The other day, I made the mistake of putting a box of magazines in a spot of particularly easy access (especially now that Andrew has climbed on things). You can see some of the resultant chaos below. The only good thing to come out of it (besides Andrew's entertainment), was that I discovered a Time magazine issue that had arrived while I was home in Utah this summer, with a particularly interesting article on the effect siblings have on us. Apparently, scientists are beginning to think that our siblings--more than even peers, parents, or genes--influence the way that we develop. (That explains so much!).





Andrew is also becoming more and more adept at escaping our makeshift blockades. After Christmas we may have to think about investing in some expanding doorway gates. Here, you see him making good his escape.



We've been having a hard time deciding on what kinds of toys Andrew likes best. We've narrowed it down to things with moving parts (or that move)--balls, doors, books, etc. Sometimes this issue is obscured when Andrew is around other kids, because then he tends to want whatever it is that they have. Both of these interests were highly in evidence last night, at Dan's advisor's Christmas party. Andrew and Selma (Dan's advisor's three-year-old daughter) competed with each other to see who could open the top of the silo and move the corral doors on Selma's Fisher Price farm. (Note to my mother: do NOT buy this for Andrew. We already got one on sale at Target a few weeks ago, although we're waiting until after we put away the Christmas nativity to unveil it). Since Selma is bigger and more mobile than Andrew, she usually won (despite her mother's attempts to encourage her to "share.") That didn't prevent Andrew from trying, or smiling in delight every time he opened the doors (which emitted an alternating "neigh" or "moo"). He repeated this over and over until Selma pushed him out of the way, or he might still be there.

Unfortunately, I don't have much to comment on the party, as Andrew and I left early (the difficulties of an early bedtime!). Dan, however, stayed and reports that the gifts that we brought to the white elephant exchange (or Yankee Swap as it is alternately known) were highly coveted gifts. The biggest letdown of the present exchange was also the largest present--a mini fridge that one of Dan's labmates hauled out of his basement. Incidentally, we were also the unofficial winners of the "ugly Christmas sweater" contest, courtesy of Goodwill. (Although this was the ostensible theme of the evening, only a handful of party-goers actually wore ugly sweaters). Unfortunately, we don't have pictures for the blog. Dan maintains that his sweater was simply too ugly to photograph (which means that he wouldn't let me take his picture). However, so you can try and visualize this yourself, I'll describe the sweaters. Mine was black with sparkly green and red holly leaves and bells. Dan wore a blue sweater-vest (also a woman's sweater) with sequined stars, Santa, and reindeer. While wearing said sweater, he looked "either gay or not straight." Enough said. (Except that Dan did say that if he only had leiderhosen the look would have been perfect!) The frightening thing is that one of Dan's labmates prevailed on him to give the sweater to her (reluctantly, I'm sure) because she wanted to wear it. On her, it looked like a glammed-up Walmart employee vest. (I think he gave it away so I couldn't take his picture in it). Andrew's sweater was a lovely red pooh sweater with sparkly threads and snow-flake buttons (I'm pretty sure it was also a girl's sweater). All in all, we looked fabulously horrible.

So, after not having much to say initially, it turns out that we have at least something to say. As we're going to be out of town for the holidays, I don't know when we will next be able to update the blog, but we'd like to wish all our readers a happy holiday! (If we don't extend those wishes in person).

Yesterday was our ward Christmas party. I can't say necessarily that we enjoyed it, but it did seem to go well. Since we are both on the activities committee, we were a little too involved in the planning of said party to relax and enjoy it when it came right down to it. Dan and I also ended up being in charge of most of the food for the party (it was a brunch, by the way)--doing price comparisons, buying the food, distributing the cookable parts to other members of the committee. The morning of the party Andrew and I went to our local Wegman's to pick up the baked goods (six dozen muffins, three dozen danishes, nine dozen rolls). It wasn't until we got back to our apartment that I realized that the food might present a bit of a logistical problem: how to fit myself, Dan, Andrew, several gall0ns of juice, three boxes of clementines, yogurt, granola, the baked goods, one cooked ham, some cooked potatoes O'Brien, several bunches of bananas, several containers of cut fruit, etc. all into one not-so-large Honda Civic. We made it, but only just barely. Upon arriving at the church, Dan unloaded all the food while I put Andrew down for a nap in his pack-n-play in a room adjoining the cultural hall. This actually worked pretty well, since Andrew slept until just after the opening prayer had been said for breakfast, allowing us to help set up!

Below, you can see Dan showing off Andrew's lovely Christmas outfit (picked up at a garage sale this summer for approximately $.50. It's a good thing it was so cheap--this was the first and last time Andrew will wear it, as he's quite definitely too big for the outfit. You can't see it in this photo, but the shirt is actually a onesie that wouldn't close over Andrew's long torso, and Andrew spent most of the morning wearing what looked more like a skirt than overalls, as the snaps on the crotch refused to stay shut!).



As part of the party, Santa Claus came for the kids. Thus, we were able to record Andrew's first encounter with Santa Claus. As you can see, he's not very impressed. (A side note: our friend, Brett Lunceford, was playing Santa--he actually currently has a corneal ulcer and was wearing an eye patch for most of the party and for church today. We think he should have worn the eye patch as Santa Claus, but Brett thought that this would scare the kids even more than the Santa suit does).



Yesterday was also our day to be social. In addition to the brunch in the morning, I had a baby shower to attend for a friend in my department (we share the same advisor and are in the same dissertation writing group). I took Andrew with me, and he was quite charming and entertaining. He made friends with another little girl who was at the shower, and, once he had warmed up to the new locale, crawled all over the place at a fairly quick pace (several people commented on how fast he was) and pulled himself up on whatever legs happened to be available--usually they weren't mine.

In the evening, another friend of mine from school had a small Christmas party that we all went to. Dan and Andrew only stayed for about an hour or so, then went home and put Andrew to bed, while I stayed and got a ride home with some friends. It's nice to feel somewhat social again.

Our last word for the week also comes with an advisory warning: this contains some reference to fecal material and is not for the fainthearted (meaning Wendy). Yesterday, between social excursions, we stripped Andrew down to his onesie (we were going to change him out of the ill-fitting Christmas attire) and put him in his highchair to feed him. As he sometimes does, he proceeded to make his red face during the feeding. Normally, this wouldn't be much of a problem. However, upon investigation we realized that he had hit the motherlode (lode being the key word)--there was poop everywhere: in his onesie, on his onesie, on the high chair, under the high chair covering . . . needless to say, we threw the high chair covering in the laundry almost immediately and washed the boy down quite thoroughly. This was quite possibly the most spectacular blow-out of Andrew's short but distinguished career.

Anyone looking for a healthy, rambunctious, destructive, almost-toddler? We're looking to sell, cheap. :) Somehow, as Andrew gets closer to actually walking, his destructive capacities increase exponentially. (It probably has something to do with learning he can climb over and around obstacles). This means that in the last couple of days I've felt more like clean-up crew in the aftermath of a hurricane than a mother. It's pretty exhausting! Below, we offer two recent examples of Andrew's capacities for mayhem. We thought about calling him "Destroyo," but that name's already been taken.



Yes, he's actually sitting in the cupboard.


Here, Andrew managed to clear fully a third of our DVD shelves before we corralled him. He also managed to slide off his precarious perch mid-operation because he was standing on so many DVDs, landing, rather startled and upset, at the foot of his highchair. With true infant resiliency, he was back at his task within seconds.

This week marks a week of unseasonably warm weather (the highs earlier this week were in the low 60s) and, not incidentally, the end of November and the beginning of Andrew's twelfth month. As Andrew approaches the one year mark, his skills and abilities seem to proceed apace. He's still not walking, but he's compensating with his ability to move in other ways. For instance, he's discovered that he can climb on things. Tired of constantly chasing our little runaway down the hall (towards less baby-proofed regions of the house), we've tried blockading off strategic exists from the family room (i.e. a box across the doorway and strategically placed chairs in front of the other exit). This week, Andrew has begun to discover how to circumvent those--he's learned that if he crawls under the table he can exploit the weak spot in the chair placement, and, more alarmingly, he's learned how to climb on top of the boxes. Below, we offer two exhibits. Exhibit A shows the back side of Andrew attempting to get over the doorway-blocking box; Exhibit B shows Andrew climbing on another box (placed to prevent his access to our DVD and video collection--you can tell how well this is working!).







Andrew seems congenitally disinclined to order--if he sees anything on a shelf of any sort, or anything in any kind of container, for that matter--he cannot rest until he has thoroughly disordered the contents. Yesterday, I took him over to the home of some friends in the ward (and our nearest neighbors) to borrow their piano, as I had been asked to accompany the Relief Society musical program for today's lesson. While I practiced, Andrew proceeded--quite to their amusement--to denude their DVD shelves of their contents. (He went through at least two and a half shelves before he was stopped).

Andrew is also learning other important facts and skills. He has finally learned how to wave, which will, no doubt, endear him to all the old ladies in the grocery store who are constantly (and till now without success) trying to wave to him and elicit some response besides a wide-eyed stare. He also had one of his first lessons in physics this week. I had read somewhere that a good activity for babies his age is to give them a couple of bowls with a little bit of water in the bottom and some measuring cups and spoons and show them how to transfer liquid from one container to the next. This book did warn that the floor might get quite wet in the process, so I duly prepared by placing several towels underneath Andrew. What I did not foresee (but which in retrospect seems like an obvious consequence of this kind of activity!) was that Andrew's first action would be to dump all of the water on his lap! I think he enjoyed himself, nonetheless, and his distraction gave me just enough time to empty out the dishwasher.



He also learned a little bit about wind-pressure this week. I had a dissertation writing group meeting just before noon on Friday (normally this meeting is at 4 pm, and Dan just comes home early to watch Andrew while I'm gone), so I took Andrew up to campus where he hung out in Dan's lab while I met with my group. Although the weather was not particularly cold (in the high 40s, I think), it was exceptionally windy--in fact, there was a high wind advisory out all afternoon and into the evening. Andrew, if anything, seemed to enjoy having his breath taken away from him by occasional gusts of strong wind.

Andrew is also, as Dan reminds me, enjoying some anatomy lessons. He's quite fond of hair, and is known to grab the hair of unwary victims with unholy glee. Right now, while Dan is lying on the floor behind me, Andrew is trying to lift up Dan's shirt to investigate the phenomenon known as a "belly-button" (much, I'm sure, to Dan's chagrin!).

And finally, we're trying to teach Andrew a little bit about the Christmas season. I put up our tree (all 12" of it) and some stockings yesterday while Andrew watched bemusedly. But we also put out the Fisher-Price nativity that my mom sent us for Christmas. Andrew seems more interested in pulling all the pieces off whatever surface we set them on than anything else. We've tried working on recognizing important characters in the Christmas story, like Mary, Joseph, and Baby Jesus. After several misidentifications ("no, that's a sheep," "no, that's Joseph," "no, that's a donkey,") we think Andrew has finally learned to identify Baby Jesus (although he certainly doesn't appreciate the significance of this, as he usually puts Baby Jesus' head in his mouth). However, Andrew's absolute favorite part of the nativity set appears to be the hay in the manger, which he will tote around with him and chew on (and which you can see him holding in the picture below).



We have one other event worthy of note this week; Friday evening we went to our friends' (the Hanscom's) home to celebrate the birthday of Michael Higley. Andrew, after a little bit of a rough start (he cried for fifteen or so minutes), proceeded to sleep through the entire celebration in the adjacent room, so we both enjoyed our respective games of hearts (guys) and nerts (girls). It's nice to occasionally get out among other adults, rather than our usual Friday night routing, which consists of me reading for my dissertation for an hour or two and then watching part of a movie or TV series before retiring for an early bedtime (sounds fascinating, doesn't it?). Although some of the movies we watch are definitely more interesting than others. We recently watched the documentary, Wordplay, about the New York Times crossword puzzle. It wasn't quite as nail-bitingly suspenseful as Spellbound (about the National Spelling bee), but it was just as intriguing and also managed to pull off a surprise finish. We would highly recommend it (especially for my dad, who's also a NYT crossword fan!).

The last picture is just for fun--I call it our "choirboy" photo. As you can tell, Andrew's got a bit of growing to do before he can fit into his daddy's clothes.

This year marks the first Thanksgiving since my arrival in Pennsylvania that we have spent time with relatives from the Collings side (two years back we went to Virginia and spent the day with Dan's cousin's husband's family--aside from Dan's cousin, Jenny, neither of us were related by blood to anyone else present). Wednesday, we drove up to New Haven Connecticut and spent Wednesday afternoon and Thursday with Justin, Lia and their two beautiful girls, Julia and Eli. Andrew was thrilled to spend time with his cousins (and to be out of the car, it must be confessed!) and threatened to wreck havoc on the Collings' apartment. (I was particularly worried that he might get hold of some of Justin's law books--Andrew seems to think that bookshelves exist only to be emptied as rapidly as possible of their contents). (Justin described Andrew as an "organic tank.")



Wednesday afternoon, we went to Yale campus, specifically, to the Museum of British art, which was doing a special exhibit on Canaletto. Andrew charmed one of the museum docents by consenting to give him "high-fives," and spent the rest of the trip through the museum industriously pulling off his shoes and then his socks. Afterwards, we retired to the Collings' apartment once more where Andrew went down for a much needed nap (and his parents got a much needed break) and we chatted with Justin and Lia and read stories to Julia (a new favorite, apparently, is the fabulous Paper Bag Princess, a must-have for any budding independent woman). After dinner, which Lia kindly prepared for us (replete with fresh bread and everything!), we retired to our hotel and collapsed in bed early where we all slept relatively well until about midnight, after which time Andrew woke up pretty much once every hour until 6:30. (Not to mention our neighbor who, for some inscrutable reason, spent twenty minutes just around 10 pm playing what sounded like "Hot Cross Buns" over and over again on a recorder).



Thursday morning, Justin and Dan braved the bitter elements to participate in the New Haven Elders' Quorum Turkey bowl. I was more than happy to stay inside the warm apartment while Andrew napped (no fond spouses or children cheering them on, I guess). Justin was apparently all-time quarterback (due to uneven numbers), which meant that he basically didn't have to run around much. Dan, on the other hand, was set to guard a guy with cleats, which meant that not only was he running up and down the field a lot, but he was slipping up and down the field as well. He compares it to trying to ice-skate in socks. Naturally, upon arriving at the Collings apartment, Dan was consigned to a shower and his shorts were consigned to the trash bin (with much rejoicing on my part, since I've been trying to persuade him to throw away these particular shorts for months now). Luckily, too, since Dan only brought one pair of shoes to New Haven, Justin happened to have a pair of size twelve sneakers that my mom bought in an optimistic mood when he was in high school (I guess she thought he would grow another size--but he remains a size 11--not thatThursday morning, while Andrew napped, his dad braved the elements with Justin to join the New Haven elders' quorum for a Turkey Bowl that Justin had organized. As it was cold, wet, and rainy, I was more than happy to stay in the warm apartment while the boys tore up the field. Justin, apparently, was all-time quarterback (due to uneven numbers), which meant basically that he didn't do much running. Dan was set to guard a guy with cleats, which meant that not only was he running up and down the field, but he was pretty much slipping up and we're knocking that or anything; we were grateful to have the shoes!).

That afternoon, we joined Justin and Lia's New Haven ward for a potluck Thanksgiving dinner--which was actually surprisingly good and very low stress (even if the missionaries did clean out Dan's mashed potatoes approximately three minutes after we placed them on the table--Justin said some of them were from Idaho, so I can only presume that they were missing some home cooking). Julia insisted on sitting with Callie, her best friend (a cute little girl with the roundest belly I've seen in a long time) and then they proceeded to chase one another (and all the other little mobile children) around the church until the event was over. Andrew watched them with some longing, until we consented to let him get out of his booster seat and crawl around on the podium area.

We spent the rest of the afternoon at Justin and Lia's apartment, playing their new favorite game, Time's Up (I was once again impressed with my husband's knowledge of random trivia). Julia, in true two-year old fashion, was imperious and condescending at once--letting us know when it was okay for Andrew to play with something that was hers, and when it was definitely NOT okay. She also liked to tell us what books we should read to her and generally commented on whatever was going on in her immediate vicinity. Andrew was his usual rambunctious self, and Eli graced us all with her sweetness--laying on a blanket on the floor, waving her hands gracefully, and smiling seraphically. (When, that is, her cousin wasn't trying to sit on her. Not that Andrew did this deliberately--he just seems to have no comprehension of personal space and tends to sit down wherever suits him, even if that is on Eli's feet). (For another account of our Thanksgiving festivities, see the Collings family blog.)

That night we returned to our hotel room for a hopeful night of repose only to have our hopes cruelly dashed. For one thing, we'd finally figured out how to work the heater in the room and apparently overcompensated, as the room was appallingly warm about one in the morning. For another, our neighbors (the recorder players? we'll never--thank goodness--know) decided to watch loud TV and talk loudly into the wee hours of the night. (As I was starting to come down with a cold, I luckily slept through this; Dan, however, was not so lucky). Then, Andrew decided that he needed to contribute to the mix. After waking at 2 am, he refused to believe that he was tired. I didn't get him back to sleep until quarter to four, after which time he slept for an hour and a half, waking up at 5:15. This time, nothing put him back to sleep--rocking, singing, nursing--even the one hour car ride that we took to try and let his poor father get more sleep. Perhaps fortunately, we had previously cancelled our prior plans to continue north to Boston to visit my friend Cristie (I didn't think it was fair to expose my pregnant friend and her two young children to my developing cold), so we were able to pack our bags, bid farewell to Justin and Lia and their brood, and head home for some much needed rest.

Saturday we spent primarily lounging around the house (well, and some shopping). It was nice to spend so much time with one another--usually Saturdays are spent with one of us alternately working on campus or on dissertation stuff. All in all, a very nice week (aside from my cold, which is still lingering on, unwanted). In some kind of overambitious insanity, I agreed to both teach one of the gospel doctrine classes today and play the piano for Relief Society, which led to a rather busy Sunday--especially as, during Relief Society, Andrew and another little girl spent most of the time competing with each other (for books, for puffs, for toys . . . ). Every time one of them picked up a book, the other one wanted that book--no other book would do. The little girl also discovered Andrew's puffs--after okaying it with her mother, I gave her some puffs, and then Andrew wanted some. . . which meant that both of them were grabbing puffs as fast as possible from me, reaching across each other when necessary.

The last few pictures are just a taste: we've decided to try and do photo cards this year, which means that we needed a good picture of Andrew (who wants to see his parents when they can just admire him?). Here are some of our favorites:

"To Love Oneself Is the Beginning of a Lifelong Romance." --Oscar Wilde, An Ideal Husband

We thought that this week we'd present our blog in terms of pictographical representations of the week (not surprisingly, this pictographic evidence all revolves around our son). In the time honored tradition of Narcissus and many other self-admirers, Andrew has recently discovered his reflection in the mirror. Here, you see the boy presenting his reflection with a sloppy token of his affection (i.e. a "smooch"). (Dan says, "we don't blame him for giving himself a kiss in the mirror--he is a rather handsome young man--but we wish he wouldn't use so much tongue!")When he's not admiring himself in the mirror, he's trying to pull the mirror off whatever surface it may be adorning and throwing it on the floor.

"The Youth of the present day are quite monstrous. They have absolutely no respect for dyed hair." --Oscar Wilde, Lady Windermere's Fan


This is Andrew trying to escape from our home-made barricades to keep him in the living room (otherwise, we're constantly trying to haul him back from other, less baby proofed regions of the house. If you can't tell what this is, it's a body pillow wedged between a tupperware box and a chair. And no, he didn't make it through--he eventually gave up trying to squeeze across the opening). We can certainly sympathize with the urge to escape: both of us adults occasionally find ourselves in that position. This week, it was Dan's turn--he spent the first several days of the week at a conference in New Jersey (the location should say it all) where the sole purpose of his presence was to boost audience attendance at his advisor's symposium. Needless to say, Andrew and I both missed him greatly and all concerned were glad to have him back in town. My methods of escapism are a little more subtle--I simply go shopping.

"In married life, three is company, two is none." --Oscar Wilde, The Importance of Being Earnest


Here is a picture of Andrew, charming as always in the Lands End overalls I picked up at a garage sale. Although he looks rather restful in this picture, this was taken only seconds after Dan had to be extricated from Andrew's death-grip on his scalp. As part of his ongoing investigation of his surroundings, he's figured out what he can and cannot pull on. (Although I think that mostly he's discovering that anything can be pulled on--his favorites are hair, the computer keyboard, and the DSL connector). Keeping Andrew entertained can sometimes be a challenge--we had stake conference today, and Andrew spent most of the time cruising around the narrow space in front of our seats. He also charmed our neighbor (an investigator, as it turns out), inveigling her into giving him bouncy rides on her foot.

"Youth smiles without any reason. It is one of its chiefest charms."--Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray


Andrew really is delightful (most days)--he's starting to understand a lot more and interact a lot more. For instance, if I ask him, "where's your ball," he'll often stop what he's doing to look around the room until he spots his ball. He loves to play a limited form of catch where we roll the ball back and forth (well, mostly I roll it). I don't know if he's fully grasped the concept, though; after a couple of rolls, he'll usually crawl towards me, corner the ball, and tries his darnedest to chew on it (doesn't quite fit in his mouth). In a similar spirit of joie de vivre, Dan let me experience once more the carefree single life by watching Andrew so that I could attend the adult session of stake conference Saturday night. Afterward, I went to dinner with several friends in the ward at the only real Mexican restaurant in a sixty mile radius (although I did take pity on Dan and brought some food home for him). It was nice, but I have to admit that my stamina for staying out is not what it once was; I got home just after 10:30 pm and it might as well have been the wee hours of the morning, as tired as I felt!

"Nothing looks so like innocence as an indiscretion."--Oscar Wilde, Lord Arthur Savile's Crime

Dan calls this picture, "Trigger's Triumph." Andrew was pulling himself up on his horsey and ended up sitting on the red side frame, and then gradually slipping underneath before he figured out that he could turn over and extricate himself. No real connection to our lives; we just liked the photo.

As you may have noticed, there was no mid-week update for this blog. (Inference: we've been busy). For one thing, Andrew had his first real fever. We're still not sure what caused it--the doctor ruled out ear and throat infections, and they said that teething wouldn't cause a fever that high. By Wednesday afternoon, his fever had peaked at 103 degrees Fahrenheit. Although seasoned parents may pooh-pooh our concern (and in fact the nurse at the doctor's office said they usually don't tell parents to call unless the fever is 105, which seems awfully high to me), I, for one, was pretty concerned when I placed Andrew on our bed while I made some calls--and he stayed put. His usual M.O. is to crawl rapidly towards whichever side of the bed he can reach before a parent hauls him back. Instead, he was content to lean against me and stay right by me. His illness also meant that he didn't sleep so well, and neither, needless to say, did his parents.

If Wednesday marked a low-point for our week (physically, mentally, emotionally), then yesterday (Saturday) marked a high point. Yesterday was stake temple day for the Altoona stake (in preparation for stake conference next Sunday), and so, after some debate, we decided to haul Andrew down to DC and go to the temple. I was a little hesitant about going at first (Andrew had been sick, we decided to go last minute--well, the night before--and for those of you who know me, I'm not exactly good at spontaneous things--and, to be perfectly honest, it meant that I would miss all those good Veteran's Day sales! Not, of course, that it wasn't worth the sacrifice). But we had a wonderful trip. Andrew did okay on the drive down (he cried a little when he wanted to sleep but couldn't), and Dan and I took turns staying with Andrew while the other went through the temple. The weather couldn't have been better--despite the fact that it was almost the middle of November, it was 70+ in DC, and sunny. (Thus, the pictures of Andrew in short sleeves). We had initially thought that, if there was time, we might go downtown and take Andrew to the zoo. And although the weather was perfect for that sort of thing, we finally decided that taking a nap-deprived baby to the zoo might not be the best experience for any of us. So we packed Andrew up in the car once more and headed back (he fell asleep shortly after leaving DC, so it's probably a good thing we didn't attempt the metro).



If Dan and I enjoyed the temple, the highlight (and lowlight) of Andrew's day was probably dinner at Bob Evans. (I know, glamorous, right? Well, neither of us had eaten lunch and it was almost 4:00 and so we were a little desperate. If only I'd known that there was a Cracker Barrell less than ten minutes down the road . . .). In part, he was excited to be out of the car. But he also got to eat some of our adult food, which thrilled him. He happily threw cheese and spoons on the floor, squacked cheerfully and waved his arms around. He liked the mashed potatoes and gravy; he liked the cooked carrots, he liked pretty much everything. But I think we overdid it. After a couple of ounces from his bottle, and a little bit of french silk pie, he promptly threw it all back up again (which, I think, traumatized his parents more than it did him). It's a good thing that I remembered to pack a change of clothes as well as pajamas--he'd already had a minor blow-out at the temple, and this necessitated a change out of his second change of clothes.

The drive back wasn't nearly as much fun. It was dark and pretty rainy and you could hardly see the roads in places (not to mention the fact that we had to drive down a stretch of highway that is one of the deadliest in the state). But we returned to tell the tale.

We also thought that we'd include a few pictures not just of Andrew but of Dan and I (just to remind some of you what we look like, particularly since all you ever get are pictures of Andrew).

Dan and I are both suffering from a paralyzing kind of mind block today--neither of us can remember much about last week. This either means that it was a very bad week and we're trying to block it out, or, more likely, it was simply not very noteworthy. (Or at least the things that happened weren't very interesting). In general, this means that Dan went to work every day, Rosalyn did something for the writing center every day, and Andrew played, slept, and pooped every day (not necessarily in that order).

This was a little unique for me, as I had two writing presentations this week--Tuesday night and Wednesday night. Because I was working on Halloween (albeit only for an hour or so), we missed trick-or-treating with Andrew (who probably didn't know or care what he was missing). Instead, we took him around Sam's club where they were handing out candy to kids in costume (candy, which, of course, his parents ate for him. It must be confessed that his mom ate more of the candy than his dad did.) One thing I'm starting to learn about workshops--no matter how hard you work to make the workshop successful, you're never going to please everyone. Of the fifty or so evaluation sheets I got after the workshop on Wednesday (I had 160 + people sign up--luckily, a little under half that actually showed), most were fairly positive. However, when asked what could be improved, I received approximately equal number of contradictory answers! Some people loved the group interaction; others complained that they were not here to hear what their peers thought. Some thought the handout was useful for following the presentation; others would have preferred exact copies of the powerpoint slides because they got confused trying to follow the handout and the powerpoint presentation. (The irony of all this was that I had spent several hours trying to make the handout fit the presentation better than it had previously--as this was a workshop put together by previous writing center tutors). I mentioned this to my coworker the next day and she reminded me that you can't please everyone--there will always be some people looking for something to complain about (reminds me of a family member--not immediate--who shall remain nameless!).

Andrew has been, as usual, charming. He had his first experience with undiluted meat products this week (his previous encounter is usually in the form of babyfood jars that mix ground chicken with some sort of fruit or vegetable and are usually heavier on the fruit than the meat). We tried out some gerber turkey sticks (cut in pieces, of course), and, despite the fact that I personally find the texture nauseating and off-putting, Andrew loved it. In fact, it was a hard call which he liked more--cheese or turkey sticks.

He's also discovered some new games that he likes. One involves walking with his walker back and forth across the room until his beleaguered parents no longer have the energy to turn him around again (he's pretty good at propelling the thing across the room, but he tends to get stuck when he hits some kind of impediment, like furniture). He'll gladly do this ten or twenty times, smiling triumphantly the whole time.

The other game that he likes is a variety of tag. Sort of. We've taken to blocking off the doorway into the living room with a footstool (otherwise we spend most of Andrew's waking hours chasing him down the the hall). So, if Dan or I go down the hallway, Andrew will stand expectantly at the footstool until we turn around to face him, at which point he starts giggling. Then, we run down the hallway towards him, saying some variation of "I'm going to get you," and he squeals and tries to run away (well, again, sort of. He will usually move a few steps away as fast as his chubby legs and limited mobility will take him, but he seldom goes out of arms' reach--after all, getting "got" is part of the thrill).

As promised, here are more pictures of Andrew in his zebra costume. As you might suspect, he hates the hood--thus, we have only one picture of him in his hood! (Don't know what his mother is doing . . .)







We threw in a couple more gratis. The first is a picture of Andrew enjoying his cheese. The second is what I call an "Eves baby" shot--he looks quite a bit like his Wells cousins, I think. (He's also wearing 18-month pajamas, if you can believe it. He's such a long body that 12-month footie pjs no longer fit!)

All your base are belong to us . . . has nothing whatsoever to do with this post, but one has to start somewhere. I meant to post yesterday, but blogger was temporarily down, which means that you'll have to put up with whatever stellar thoughts coalesce in what few remnants of a thinking brain that I have left after a couple of hours in the writing center (and to think, I get paid to help people with their writing! After a sentence like that, you'd think I wouldn't be legal).
Today's post, unfortunately, promises nothing as interesting as my brother's recent description of his Yale law school class (see link at right. Who knew that we might only be two--or is it three--degrees separated from Woody Allen, whose son is in Justin's class?). However, one must say something! (My father once commented that "nature abhors a vacuum. . . . And so does Rosalyn.")

The highlight of our week has definitely been Andrew's increasing sense of balance--he has multiplied his feat of Friday (standing alone for a few seconds) a few times since our last post. I suppose that must say something about the excitement present in our week!

Saturday was our ward's annual chili-cook off (we were told not to call it the "halloween party," because it was thought that this might discourage some of the singles from attending a fest meant primarily for children). It was also Andrew's first foray into the exciting world of trick-or-treating. He was dressed as a zebra (his mom's yard-sale find)--the costume itself didn't seem to bother him so much; it was the hood that drove him crazy. Although I thought he looked darling, he evidently didn't think so and took drastic measures to remedy the situation. In short, he puked. Not copious quantities, but sufficient to make both him and his mother have to change clothes! He didn't stay long after the puking incident--he and Dan went home (where Andrew was promptly put to bed), and I stayed because I had agreed to do some face painting after the dinner. Most unusual request: six-year-old Dane Dorius (one of our old primary students) wanted me to paint "The Kraken" on his cheek. As I had no idea what this looked like, he tried to explain it to me. He told me that it was a cross between a crab and an octopus--what he got was a reddish sort of shape with long green tentacles. Definitely not my best artistic endeavor!

I'm also slowly coming to the conclusion that maybe I worry too much (please, no smart-alecky comments here! I know what you think.) Daylight Savings Time has definitely not been as onerous as I was afraid it would be. Saturday night (in part because his bedtime was later, due to the ward party), Andrew slept from 7:30 to 5:30 (6:30 pre DST time). And this morning, after a brief wake-up at 4:45, he slept until six. So far, none of the 4 am wake-ups that I've been terrified of. Of course, knock on wood, there's always tomorrow . . . That would be an appropriate "trick," wouldn't it? (Possible retribution for eating his Halloween candy for him).

We have some photos of Andrew to post, but as blogger is not currently letting me load them, this will have to wait until another day!

Oh, and one more tidbit for Andrew's grandparents (who are probably the only ones interested in this piece of news)--Andrew is cutting his two top teeth. For the record, this makes four.

Two Andrew milestones of note occured today. First, our "early bird" actually slept from about 7:15 last night until 6:30 a.m.! We were excited on two counts--first, he slept all night without waking up his parents, and second, he slept past six a.m.! Our second milestone was perhaps more momentous. After getting Andrew out of his crib after his nap, I set him on his feet on the floor. Then, just to see what would happen, I gradually removed my support. To my surprise, Andrew actually remained on his feet for a full 2-3 seconds before sitting down! This is the first time he's stood on his own, independent of any support. (Although granted, any more he only needs minimal support to get to his feet). Anyway, not much in terms of the whole scheme of things, but enough to make a mother excited!

Around here, the use of nicknames provides an interesting insight into etymology (the history of words, for anyone who's not familiar with that term). For instance, as a child I was affectionately known as "Rosalrocerous." I happened to mention this once to my friend Karin, who promptly told her then fiance, and they both took great delight in calling me as many variations on that name as they could: Rosalrumperocerous, Rumpasaurus, and other bone-chilling variations. (I think, in case anyone was wondering, that the "rump" originated during a particularly humiliating session of bowling . . .). Dan has a much more varied and storied past, in terms of various appellations: Skidmore, Horsey Trot, Skeeterumpus, Raheee, Beaver Pelt, Dan-o, Boone (as in Daniel).

More recently, however, we've been fascinated by the evolution of Andrew's nicknames. Initially, he was known as the "Bug." After a brief flirtation with "bugger" (rejected quickly for obvious reasons), this became "booger," a similarly distasteful (if less offensive) moniker. Or "buggy." Other variations (for some reason we seem to have a fascination with bodily excretions): poop stain, poopie, etc. Lately, the various nicknames seemed to have merged into his most recent--the daring, stimulating, original: boo boo. Or boo-boo boy. Take your pick. (As I write this, I'm particularly impressed with both our creativity and our eloquence in choosing these names. Clearly Andrew is destined for greatness of some kind--I just hope he doesn't choose to manifest it in his next diaper.) Other options, for the curious (we know that not everyone who reads this post hangs on ever factoid about Andrew, so if you belong to this category, feel free to skip to the next paragraph. Although that too, come to think of it, is probably about Andrew. What can we say? We don't have much of a life!) include: pu-ju, squidget (you know, a squidgy midget), squatty boy, and Sasquatch.

As this is the season of ghouls and ghosts and other frightful things, we thought we'd take a brief moment to celebrate all the things we're afraid of.

Andrew: vacuum cleaners (apparently we don't use it often enough!); grass (on a recent, memorable outing to the park, Andrew was positively distressed every time his bare toes or hands encountered the stuff); and electronic crib soothers (see earlier post).

Daniel: Billy (his mom's doll, aka first boyfriend--anyone who has seen Billy in his current state of disrepair will know he's freaky beyond belief. Chucky eat your heart out!); vienna sausages (Dan says: "I'm all for tubular meat, but these are midgy tubular meats"); and PDA.

Rosalyn: Daylight Saving Time (terrified--there's no other word for it. In one week, Andrew will go from waking up at 5:30 am to 4:30. Psychologically, I don't think I'm prepared to deal with this); vampires behind the shower curtain (don't ask); interminable conversations with ESL students about the appropriate usage of "which" and "that" (I don't know, okay?).

As you can perhaps tell from the above post, we've had a positively scintillating week. Dan went to lab every day, I went to the writing center every day, Andrew pooped multiple times every day (and crawled around naked), etc., etc., etc. (I did, however, find some fabulous deals at Gymboree . . . One more thing Dan's afraid of--that the shopping will never end!)

Here, doing a bit of fall cleaning. (Don't worry--this was a brand new garbage can, purchased a scant thirty minutes earlier).

Some Andrew-isms to enliven your mid-week stupor!

We've noticed a couple of new phenomena in Andrew's life the last week or so. The first is one I've dubbed "captain hook." All of you are, of course, familiar with the infamous tocking that betrayed the alligator that Hook was so deathly afraid of. Well, Andrew similarly has discovered a way of announcing his presence. He's latched onto a little white cup (almost like a second appendage) that he won't let go of even when he crawls around. If he's particularly intrepid, he'll crawl as fast as his little arms and legs will let him across the kitchen floor toward the hallway, with the little white cup betraying his presence with its reptitive "knock" "knock" "knock" against the linoleum. (If you look really closely, you can even see the fine string of drool trailing from his chin--indicative, no doubt, of his intentness).

The second Andrewism doesn't have a picture, but you'll be able to use your imagination. Andrew, like most babies his age, has been industriously babbling away. Lately, he seems to have picked up a new sound "Ch" "ch" which he likes to repeat at regular intervals, particularly when presented with either of two food favorites: cheese and cheerios. While I'm tempted to read this as an early attempt to communicate, I think he just really likes the sound: he also says it to me when I go to pick him up after his naps!

Our final salvo for the day is a picture of Andrew enjoying the baby-sized pumpkin his Grandma Patti sent him.

Over the river and through the woods . . . and over the river . . . and over the river . . . and still no grandma's house. Or, in this case, St. Benedict the Abbot's church. Yesterday, we all piled into our trusty Honda Civic and headed to the city of three rivers (better known as Pittsburgh, previously Fort Pitt, previously something else that I can't remember . . . ). Our goal was IKEA (well, my goal anyway), a fabulous shopping icon with cheap furniture, houseware, and kids "crap" (Dan's term), which we made in a timely fashion. Actually, we were heading down for the wedding of Tracy Paxon (a former Ewing lab member) to James Gibson. However, since we arrived in Pittsburgh around 1 o'clock and the wedding wasn't until 3, we thought we'd while away the time shopping. We left IKEA around 2:20ish, with just enough time to get us to our destination (or so mapquest suggested). Our directions, however, turned out to be somewhat lacking (although it's entirely possible that the whole thing was the navigator's fault). At any rate, when we were told to merge onto US 19 from US 51, we didn't realize that 19 almost immediately diverged from US 51. About ten miles down the road we finally realized that we were no longer seeing signs for 19--however, this being the outskirts of Pittsburgh with horrible little intersections and lots of traffic and a grand tradition of crappy roadsigns (meaning you can't read the sign until you're driving past it), it had taken us over twenty minutes to navigate these ten miles. By the time we had corrected our error, gotten back on US 19 and driven a few miles down the road, we realized that, since it was 3:40, we had most likely missed most of the wedding, and it seemed more sensible to go find our hotel and put Andrew down for a nap (who, incidentally, was less than pleased with this unexpected hour and a half confinement in the car, after being in the car most of the morning). At least we made it to the reception, where Andrew was a big hit. During the toasts, about 75% of the people in the surrounding tables were watching us trying to feed Andrew his mush instead of watching the toast-givers. (We must say, Andrew was much less dry--in more ways than one!--than Uncle Arty). Another highlight of the evening was watching Dan's advisor Andy's little girl, Selma. At first, she reminded one forcibly of Elmira, from Tiny Toons (I'm going to love him and squeeze him . . .) as she grabbed any young male in her vicinity in a big bear hug. Her mom told us that she's going through a hugging phase, but it looked to us more like she was boning up for a career in professional wrestling. As the evening wore on, however, she became a little more gentle. In fact, Dan tells me that she reminded him of me, when I get tired--in other words, she started to do the "limpet" thing, clinging to her chosen host until he was forced to drag her across the room.

At any rate, we enjoyed the reception. But we did get lost on the way back to the hotel. (Of course, at this point we had driven up and down this road four times by now--since this was the route we'd been lost on initially--and everything looked familiar!). We eventually made it, not just to our hotel, but back to State College, to Andrew's infinite relief. He will not soon allow us to put him placidly into his car seat! His new m.o. consists of arching his back resistently if we even sit down in the car with him. The one thing we did learn from our excursion is that Andrew is infinitely more adaptable than his mother. (Infer into this what you will.)

Other highlights (or lowlights, as you wish) from the week. Andrew seems to be developing some form of stranger anxiety. He does all right as long as his parents are within eyeshot, but after that, all bets are off. This week, in a spectacular case of scheduling, I had my yearly exam the same day (and approximately the same time) that Dan had an interview. Needless to say, both were fairly important things for us to attend, so, one of Dan's labmates generously pitched in to watch Andrew for the twenty or so minutes that we were both going to be gone. In her words, Andrew was enjoying the party and the attention of a room full of people, until the people (including his father) gradually left the room and he realized that she was the only one there. Then he cried for twenty minutes until Dan came back. During this crying spell, our intreped heroine coerced two of her lab-mates (both similarly unversed in the arts of small children) to help her change Andrew's diaper. We think it says something about the strength and wiles of our little man that it took three grown-ups to put a clean diaper on him--and it was only a wet one! Most surprisingly, Andrew was able to outwrestle a man who is 6'4 and weighs 280 lbs, as Andrew apparently got away from the largest of the three would-be diaper changers. (Not that this is a new event--Andrew routinely gets away from one or both of us. We wonder if maybe he's planning a career as a streak. See previous post on "runaway bum").

All right. Now for the moment you have all been waiting for. (No, not Dan's graduation. Or mine, for that matter). Picture time!

As part of his newfound "separation anxiety," Andrew has also developed a talent for monitoring his parents' actions at all times and in all places. Below, you can get a glimpse of the "all-seeing eye" of Andrew.

Dan says: "Looks like he has the Halloween disease."

We bought the horse for Andrew to ride, but apparently, in this bout, the horsey won. (We're still not entirely sure how Andrew managed to so dextrously insert himself beneath the horse).

This last one is for Trisha. Andrew has recently developed a propensity for occasionally snuggling with blankets, mattresses, anything related to a bed. (Of course, nothign really stops his momentum for long aside from actually going to sleep). Today, as Andrew was crawling around on the floor (and across the blanket Trisha made for him) he would stop every once and a while to put his cheek down on the soft blanket before quickly resuming his explorations.

My first year here at Penn State I remember playing a game of Ex Libris with some fellow ward members. For anyone not familiar with this game, it requires you to write the first or last line to a novel, and then everyone tries to guess which response is the correct one (like balderdash, only with novels instead of obscure word definitions). One memorable evening, the cue was for Milne's House at Pooh Corner. I wrote, "It's raining, Pooh," said Christopher Robin . . . or something to that effect. The individual reading all of the entries, however, missed the crucial comma in Christopher Robin's statement, which came out as "It's raining poo. . ." You can probably imagine the reaction. Even now this line comes back to haunt me occasionally.

Why do I bring this experience up now, you ask? Well, the phrase has come to seem somewhat portentous around our house this week. (I apologize in advance for those of our gentle readers whose "gross-out" tolerance is rather low!). In the last couple of days, Andrew has had some rather spectacular blow-outs (in quantity and quality). At first, we were somewhat mystified as to the cause, until we realized that, for the last couple of days, we've been feeding him a tasty little Gerber mixture called "plums and apples." (With an emphasis on the plums, apparently). Clearly, plums are a hazardous ingredient to add to an internal plumbing system that already processes with admirable regularity!

(It might be indicative of the level of excitement around our house that we're reduced to a discussion of Andrew's bowel productivity. Needless to say, this was not, perhaps, the most exciting week that we have ever had). We did reconfirm that Andrew likes to suck/chew/gnaw on dill pickles, although we have to watch him carefully, or he'll try to bite off chunks too big to swallow. As you can perhaps tell from this post, Andrew remains the most exciting thing to have happened to us.

Today was a day of reckoning. Well, for Andrew at least. Today was Andrew's nine-month check-up at the doctor's office. And the results are . . . (Since we know all of you wait with bated breath to find out how our son is growing, or not). Andrew now weighs in at 22 lbs 15 oz (actually, 15.5 from what I saw--so he's practically 23 lbs--good thing we got that convertable carseat when we did), measures 30 1/4 inches, and has a head circumference of 47 centimeters. Actually, he's maintaining a pretty consistent growth rate, at 90th percentile for height and 80th for weight.

He continues to be the delight (and bane) of our existence. Lately, our house has epitomized the case of the early bird and the worms (well, at least I think I qualify as a worm, Dan maybe not so much so). How so, you ask? Well, gentle reader, let me explain. In the last week, Andrew has slept to or past 6 am perhaps twice. Most of the time, he prefers to rouse his parents at the somewhat less civilized hour of 5 (well, between 5:15 and 5:45). For those of you who are naturally early risers, this may not be so bad. For those of us who prefer not rising until after seven of the clock, this is not so exciting. Suffice it to say that I face the prospect of Daylight Saving Time (by the way, did you know that there is no "s" after Saving? http://webexhibits.org/daylightsaving/b.html) later this month with trepidation, not to mention dread. If any of you have suggestions on how to encourage our son to sleep later, please let us know! We will be grateful for any and all advice. This morning he woke up at 5:15, and after an abortive attempt to feed him and change him, we (well, I) put him back in his crib where he remained, playing quite happily until 6:15 or so, when he started to make himself a little more vocal. If the walls separating our bedrooms weren't so darn thin, we might actually have been able to sleep!

My final comment for the day. I think Baby Einstein is overrated. I bought a DVD for Andrew at a garage sale, and, despite the pleasant calming pictures it flashes across the screen tantalizingly, Andrew couldn't be more oblivious. He'd much rather try to help me type this post. Currently he's waving Stop, Train, Stop! at me. Perhaps he thinks that will provide better inspiration for the somewhat insipid material I have to work with today! Anyway, back to Baby Einstein. I recently read a commentary in Time magazine on Baby Einstein v. Barbie. The author's contention was that Baby Einstein represents those parents who are anxious for their child to get into the top preschools, so they can attend the top kindergartens, the top elementary schools, and so on. Barbies, on the other hand, are for those parents who just want us to be happy. (I must confess that we're likely to fall in the latter category, although I'm not sure that we really want to endorse Barbie, particularly not for Andrew). The author's concern with this distinction was that currently the media seems to portray those overambitious parents as the majority of today's parents, when, as he rightly pointed out, the vast majority of parents fall in the latter category. I think he's right to decry the media fascination with these overobsessive parents (when the real crisis seems rather to be with those parents who are indifferent or hostile), but I'm not sure that his respective toy choices are necessarily the most representative! (See http://www.time.com/time/nation/article/0,8599,1538507,00.html for the full article.)

For those of you who know that this is my century, you won't be surprised to hear that today was not my day. Well, I should qualify that. In some ways, today was a very wonderful day: we got to listen to general conference (and were only mildly distracted by Andrew's propensity to use us as human jungle gyms), and a dear friend of mine, Cory Holding, was in town and came by to brunch. (Even if I hadn't liked her before, it's very hard to resist someone who find your child as "joyful" as she did!). So I suppose it would be more accurate to say that today was not my day only in the sense that it was rather hard on my clothing. I started out this morning by pouring nearly half a cup of mixed berries down my skirt (they stained the floor--I'm not yet sure what they will have done to my skirt, which, luckily was old and black). To cap this off, Andrew ended the day by puking all over me, which necessitated, yet again, a change of clothes.

We enjoyed conference, particularly the repeated theme of finding healing and comfort through the atonement of Christ, and the admonition to "do all things in wisdom" (necessary advice when sometimes I'm tempted to try to do everything, which may be ambitious but certainly is not wise). Since we listened to conference via the internet, Andrew didn't seem terribly fazed by any of it--except, of course, for a few disturbances during the Saturday afternoon session. Something seemed to frighten him--perhaps the disembodied voices, but more likely the missionary choir. Every time the choir sang, Andrew turned his big eyes on me and his lower lip started to tremble just as tears began to pool in his eyes. One time, he was so distraught that he actually started crawling away from me, crying out for comfort. (It was actually pretty funny--someone ought to tell Brother Brenchley that his choir frightened our baby!)

Saturday seems to have been Andrew's day for being terrified by innocuous music (although some could take issue with this term in the present application). Not only did the MTC choir scare him, he exhibited the same reaction earlier in the day when, in a misguided attempt to carry out one of the suggestions in our Baby Prodigy book, I turned on some ABBA and tried to dance with him. (I probably shouldn't make confessions like this--I know that some of you are thinking that it was probably my dancing that scared him; the rest of you are thinking that ABBA itself is scary enough. But hey, we have a limited selection of danceable music. Our other options were nursery rhymes or a random assortment of musicals, like The Scarlet Pimpernel, Jekyll and Hyde, or Into the Woods. And much as I love these musicals, I suspect that Andrew may have inherited his father's more discerning musical taste.)

Besides random moments of terror, Andrew has made another developmental leap: he has learned to follow simple commands from his mother. Not "no,"which tends to cause Andrew to stop temporarily whatever he is doing, look at me, grin, and go back to whatever mischief he is currently engaged in. Distractions are much more effective in this respect. He has, however, figured out that the correct response to "give mama kisses" is to put his open mouth on my cheek, slobber on it profusely and try to suck it. A few times he's even tried to gnaw on my cheek (putting into use his only two teeth). But whatever--he's rather proud of himself and I'll take whatever misguided shows of affection I can get!

The perils of the internet are rapidly becoming clear to us as they tend to increase our consumer-like propensities. Take, for instance, the rock and bounce pony from a previous post. Internet purchase. To say nothing of all of the money we have personally contributed to that super-power of Internet consumption, Amazon.com. Our most recent foray into internet spending I can attribute solely to Dan (I suppose it must be because it makes shopping--an activity Dan otherwise avoids like the plague [except of course, for grocery shopping, which evokes fond childhood memories--he must not have hid from his parents in the warehouse like I did!]--so much easier. [How's this for an unnecessarily convoluted sentence?]). I think this latest purchase also illustrates how susceptible we are to a bit of clever marketing. What is this purchase, you ask? Well, I'm getting to that. (Introductions were never my strong point). On a recent foray into the web (specifically, to one of his favorite websites: http://www.homestarrunner.com/), Dan found a baby trogdor (the burninator) onesie to complement the Trogdor hat his coworker, Mark gave to him. (Jared, you should think about getting Joshua one. Just think how cute he and Andrew would be in their matching Trogdor outfits. Not to mention the unspoken loyalty for all things Strongbad). This is Andrew, modelling his new shirt and his Dad's hat (which he tends to pull down over his face until he can't see anything. Sorry, Dan, for the snot he streaked across the inside of your hat!).

Andrew's other new discovery for the week is that perennial favorite of young boys (well, and not so young) everywhere: a ball, specifically, a volleyball. (Excuse me--I have to go rescue our son who has pulled himself up on one of the dining room chairs and is now stuck under the table). He hasn't figured out how to do much of anything with it--he bats at it, but not to any particular purpose, and it's too big to conveniently get his mouth around (although he has tried). Nonetheless, he seems thrilled by it.

. cdsa (This is Andrew's contribution to our blog. I'm not quite sure what it means--probably some kind of code for "I'm a queeker.")

So, today is Andrew's nine month birthday. It seems hard to believe he was ever this little and placid:

Now, he seems biologically incapable of holding still for more than half a second (unless he's asleep, and even then he seems to like to wiggle. One of his favorite sleeping positions is what Dan designates the "stink bug"--that is, he sleeps on his stomach with his legs tucked under him and his bum in the air). At 21+ lbs, he's also no lightweight.

* * *
Today, Dan, Andrew and I had the novel experience of being invited speakers to a distant speaking event: that is, we got to drive two hours to speak at a branch in Sommerset, PA. (The branch president asked our bishop to recommend a couple to come down and speak, and our bishop recommended us). Dan observed that this is something that would never have happened in Utah. It seems to have gone okay--no one looked too obviously bored and Andrew avoided any major blowups (or -outs)!

* * *

After suffering for some months as Andrew's human jumping toys, Dan and I decided that we couldn't handle this anymore. So we invested in a Radio-Flyer bouncing pony (we're calling it an early birthday present to justify the cost). It took Andrew all of about five minutes to discover that not only could he bounce on this toy, but if he rocks hard enough, he can move the pony across the floor. . .

* * *
This seems to be the day for disjointed blog entries. In my defense, I spend several hours a week talking to other people about connecting their sentences and writing stronger transitions between paragraphs and sections, so it seems only fair that on my days off I exercise my right to violate what few principles I know for good writing.

* * *
One last comment. We think that Andrew might actually be beginning to understand that the random strings of noises he makes correspond with real-world meanings (well, some of them at least). Yesterday, as I was working on my talk for today in the bedroom, I heard Andrew (who was in the front room playing with his dad) emphatically repeating "mama, mama, mama." When I finally came out to see what the ruckus about, he beamed delightedly at me and stopped saying his new favorite word. The evidence isn't conclusive, of course, but it is suggestive that he might--might--have figured out his first word! (Now, if only I could figure out how to get him to say "Dada" when he wakes up in the middle of the night . . .)