We were sitting around the campfire on Friday night--Goo, Mama, Sis, Bud, and I--singing songs, telling stories ("I'm going to catch you, then I'm going to eat you!" the story of the booger-eating gnome) and eating (albeit microwaved because of miniature marshmallows) s'mores.
And I heard a "hooo" in the background, which at first I thought was an owl.
"OOooo, oooo, a-ooooooooooo!"
I knew that sound.
When I as a child visiting my grandparents home, Raucus, in the "wilds" outside Dallas, we all slept in a big room with two double beds. Mom slept with Aunt Banana because she was as squirmer and I slept with Dad because I wasn't. (Could also be that the best fit in those small beds was adult-child, not adult-adult) I know Gommie got kicked, but I got the short end of that stick, because, just as I would be falling asleep, Pop would begin to howl like the coyotes we often heard outside. And he'd even poke me for emphasis.
But still, I know from a coyote. And that's what we heard outside Friday night. I know there are coyotes in the area--they've been spotted for years--but I also know that coyotes are very rarely dangerous to humans (three fatal coyote attacks in US and Canada EVER.) Still, the kids were a bit spooked, even with the assurances of three adults and a roaring campfire.
So we just sang louder and soon the howling stopped.
But Pop, please don't howl at the kiddos next time you're outside together. Or I'm going to send them to sleep in your room!