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 . . .)

Runaway bum . . .
Today's most recent adventure involved me, Andrew, and a lot of poop. The older Andrew gets, the stronger he gets and the more adept at wriggling out of unpleasant situations (like diaper changes). Today, he managed to have a blow-out that went up the front, on both sides (never done that before), so while I was trying desperately to get his onesie off him without spreading the wealth, he was trying equally industriously to get away from me. I finally put both feet on his arms to keep him from going anywhere, which, of course, he hated. Once I got him wiped down, I relaxed my vigilance, with predictable results . . . Andrew promptly rolled away from me and, very proudly, pulled himself up on our overstuffed chair.





In other breaking news, I'm having a crisis of indecision. I never was any good at major decisions . . . like what to dress Andrew as for halloween. At first, I thought about dressing the three of us in some sort of theme--you know, Andrew as St. George (http://www.buycostumes.com/ProductDetail.aspx?productid=18579) with Dan and I as the dragon and princess (you can mentally assign each of us to whichever role you'd prefer). I also thought about dressing Andrew as Yoda (http://www.farmgoodsforkids.com/c4368-star-wars-yoda-infant-costume.html) and Dan and I could go as other Star Wars characters, letting me indulge (again) in my childhood dream of being princess Leia. This fantasy lasted until I realized how much it would cost to clothe all three of us in said costumes. At least we already have a dragon and princess costume! So I've given up on the group theme.

Now all we need to do is decide what to do with Andrew. (I realize that Halloween is still over a month away, but, as I'll most likely be ordering online--costume options are severely limited here--I've got to start early! Besides, I have to have something frivolous to do). And then I realized, what's the internet for if not to resolve my indecisive quandries (remember, we already told you it's all about us)? So, here are some other options, and you can weigh in (if you'd like) on your favorites: dinosaur (http://www.halloweenmart.com/wecs.php?store=halloweenmar&action=display&target=CH82007), Eeyore (or Bee-yore for Jakie, http://www.frankbeecostume.com/pleebo.html), rock star (http://www.sensationalbeginnings.com/itemdy00.asp?GEN9=1&T1=C+4+8630+S), or yet another dinosaur (http://www.sensationalbeginnings.com/itemdy00.asp?T1=C+5+853+M).

After much deliberation, we have succumbed to peer pressure from family and other outside forces--after all, blogging is cool, right?--and have decided to create our own blog. For those not in the know, our title comes from an obscure word Rosalyn found in the OED (Oxford English Dictionary). An evestigation is "an earnest seeking after," which seemed appropriate, since we do claim to be seeking after something--a degree, a sane child, happiness, truth, a reason to go shopping . . .

This opening post represents our attempt to join the modern/postmodern information superhighway(s) or internet(s) (which we all know is just a series of tubes, as our good friend, the senator from Alaska has told us). While we make no promises that this post will be erudite (like some we could name), we can promise . . . well, actually, at this point, we probably shouldn't make any promises. Really, we know that this is just an excuse to indulge our inner exhibitionists (and your inner voyeurs) and talk a lot about ourselves. Because really, this is all about us.

In the immortal words of Emily Dickinson (Dan says I'm trying to show off):

How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog! (blog, whatever)

Or, in Dan's words, this will be an up-to-the-minute, slam-bam, thank-you-ma'am digest of all the happenings in Pennsyltucky. (Which really means that we will be posting lots of pictures of Andrew at sporadic intervals. And maybe a little news. If you're lucky. Which you probably aren't.)

Ahem. After all that preliminary throat clearing, we ought to at least provide our faithful readers with some reward for their efforts.

Most of the entertaining episodes in our lives center, not surprisingly, around Andrew. Several months ago we paid nearly $30 for a projection mobile to put on Andrew's crib (http://www.fisher-price.com/fp.aspx?st=2001&e=detail&site=us&pid=30905&selcat=bgtoys). In theory, this would soothe him to sleep. In reality, Andrew didn't know of its existence until the last week or so. As he’s learned how to sit (and stand) in his crib, he’s also discovered the mobile. And it terrifies him. For some reason, Dan thinks it’s hilarious to find his son, sitting in his darkened room after a nap (or first thing in the morning) staring at the fluttering birdies, moving lights, and sobbing as if his heart will break.

Our other entertaining discovery was the realization that Andrew likes books. Quite literally, he has a taste for them. Earlier this week we went to Barnes and Nobles and purchased a little book for Andrew on colors. He seemed to particularly like it, as it’s just the right size for him to hold easily. I put it in his crib, to keep him entertained for a few minutes when he first wakes up. The other day, I was working on my dissertation (something I do actually do on occasion) when I heard him stirring. As I was in the middle of a passage, and as he wasn’t actually crying, I left him in his crib for about ten or fifteen minutes (hoping vainly that he would go back to sleep). When I finally got him up and brought him into another room, I noticed little white flecks on his face. Somewhat alarmed, I opened his mouth and removed a wad of soggy white paper. I couldn’t figure out how he had gotten access to that much paper in his crib, so I went back to investigate. And there discovered the remnants of his new book. Apparently, Andrew had sucked on the corner of the book (and the binding) until it started to disintegrate, and then proceeded to chew the corner off. Clearly, we have a budding bookworm on our hands!