Lifting us to laughter as you reach
upward at elastic sky,
skimming skin or raising roof
like a mole, churning earth
underneath.

Your mother would contend
that these are the antics of an Andrew
and given that she has
both intuition and an internal seismograph,
I agree, paternalistically
to speak "Andrew" at her stomach
out loud.

But when the three of us go dancing
with the dish rag in hand
I'll bet I hold two women in my arms,
and dream about the day
when feisty Kayla J.
leads a pack of younger brothers
through Yosemite.

Your first days of being
were an uncertain whim,
The rhythm that had marked
my young bride's life with lunar frequency,
was less predictable since marriage months before,
And we weren't sure if the moon was late
or fallen from the sky.

Wonder led to double talk
with moments of "Oh Dear"
But when you turned our home kit pink,
we celebrated roundly
feeding you on egg rolls
intravenously