One-and-twenty

When I was one-and-twenty
I heard a wise man say,
'Give crowns and pounds and guineas
But not your heart away;
Give pearls away and rubies
But keep your fancy free.'
But I was one-and-twenty,
No use to talk to me.

When I was one-and-twenty
I heard him say again,
'The heart out of the bosom
Was never given in vain;
'Tis paid with sighs a plenty
And sold for endless rue.'
And I am two-and-twenty,
And oh, 'tis true, 'tis true.
(From A. E. Housman's "A Shropshire Lad")

With apologies to A. E. Housman for a poem taken quite out of context, tomorrow marks Andrew's twenty-first birthday (months, that is, not years). And like most bright boys of his age, he's quite prone to throwing his heart after something with singular tenacity. Most recently, his attachments (besides the perennial one to mama) are to "quay quay" (quail), his cousins Jake and Jacob (ask me how many time's I've heard "Jako' ha'" or "Jaka' ma'"--Jacob's house/Jacob's mom in the last week), and, as of tonight, his new fisher price bike that we gave him for his birthday (three months early).

Dan started his new job at BYU on Monday, and it seems as though it will suit him well--he's interested in the project he's working on, and he says that there's a lot less drama than in his previous lab. (Most of his coworkers are industrious international students, which may have something to do with it). And having Dan around also means that there's someone else to share the parenting duties, like bedtime, which have become somewhat onerous of late (Andrew has been fighting his bedtime with a vengeance). Tuesday night, Dan got to put Andrew to bed for the first time since we left State College in July. Andrew, of course, put up a fight and cried piteously--first for his mama, as was to be expected, then "quay quay," and then for grandma. We were pretty amused that quail was his second resort, and that Daddy never even cracked the list.

Andrew's language skills have also improved with a vengeance this week--he's finally figured out how to string more than one word together to make some sense. Of course, much of what he says are phrases that he's heard, but still, we consider this progress. We realized this early this week, on a rather memorable trip to Target. While we were wandering around the store, Andrew informed me that he was pooping. Since he will occasionally say this even when he's not, it didn't initially faze me. Of course, it didn't take long for me to figure out that he was telling the truth, so I made my way slowly toward the front of the store. We stopped by the shoe section briefly, and while I was looking at shoes, Andrew took his own shoes off. (He seems to think that looking at shoes automatically means that he will try on shoes--thus, the need to remove his shoes). I said, "Andrew, don't take your shoes off," and was floored when he responded: "ah take my shoes off." Indeed, he had. We proceeded to the front of the store, where I left him with his grandma while I ran out to the car to get his diaper bag. However, I knew I was in trouble when I picked him up out of the cart and there was poop outside both his shirt and his pants. I ran him to the bathroom where I attempted to deal with the catastrophe (and yes, we *did* clean off the cart as well). Unfortunately, I only had spare pants in the bag (the shirt I usually carry around was inexplicably missing), so my mom had to go buy him another shirt off the clearance rack. Between the huge blow-out and the sentence, this won't be a trip that we forget soon. What can I say? Target brings out the best in Andrew.

Thursday evening I went with my mom and one of her friends to BYU's Homecoming Spectacular (the BYU Ballroom Dance Company and the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, among others, were performing). I enjoyed it, but was glad that Dan (who persists in calling this the "Craptacular") wasn't there--I think it would have exhausted his cheesiness tolerance.

Friday afternoon Dan took off work an hour or so early so that we could drive down to Cedar City, where his parents and sister had organized a dinner in honor of his finally finishing his degree. We almost made our proposed arrival time--we were slowed down by construction and (of course) a poopy diaper. Dinner was wonderful (eating is a family activity at the Eves' house), and we topped it off with a Dairy Queen ice cream cake. Mostly we spent the weekend hanging out and eating--Andrew had a wonderful time chasing after his cousins, and we enjoyed ourselves too.

Andrew showed off his dancing skills this week, too. One night, after Dan came home, Andrew insisted that he and grandma Patti dance with him. (He refuses to dance unless everyone in the room dances with him). He also insisted that everyone remove their shoes and socks, although he had a hard time removing my mom's compression stockings! (No matter how hard he pulled, they just wouldn't come). But he showed off his skills for his Poppy, when Poppy put on some nice eighties music (apparently this unleashed his inner dancer).

All in all, this has been a good--if uneventful--week. But really, I think that's the way I prefer them.