The Gemini Diaries

Stories, updates and pictures of Perritt and Mary Poole Smith.

Searching leaves

Kye-Ro-Tee Comin!

Media_http3bpblogspot_dffdy
A lot of people may be surprised to learn that Atlanta is called the “City in the Forest” because it’s got a great canopy of trees all across the city and surrounding counties. While that canopy was under massive attack a few years ago as developers moved in en masse, since the collapse of the housing market, the redevelopment of Atlanta has slowed down greatly. What hasn’t slowed down though is the growth of the coyote population in Atlanta. Yes, coyotes.

While a lot of folks around here say they see foxes out and about, the odds are very good that they aren’t foxes, but small coyotes. While they are sly, foxes aren’t nearly the ecological scrappers that coyotes are. When the going gets tough, the foxes head for better hunting grounds but the coyotes just make do – nosing through trash and hunting whatever small prey they can find. So what’s happened is the foxes that once lived in Atlanta have moved up to North Georgia and the coyote population in Atlanta has skyrocketed. Mostly because they are fine eating trash and the occasional family pet.

And so it has come to be that Rhett isn’t allowed outside any more after dark. Coyotes aren’t a media-hyped, phantom menace though. Not only have LeeAnn and I seen coyotes running around the streets in our neighborhood at night, we also hear them during the daytime. We live pretty close to a fire station so we hear fire trucks headed out to save the day periodically. This has always been one of Perritt’s favorite things in life. No matter what he’s doing inside and out, if he catches the sounds of a fire truck, he stops in his tracks, holds his breath for a second, pricks his ears up and listens intently. A few seconds later he smiles and lets out a “wawwbeeee truck” followed by a “woooooOOOOooooo!” imitation and then some more careful listening. He loves hearing fire trucks.

But lately, accompanying the fire trucks’ sirens is another, more other-worldly sound, an AAaaaww OOOOOooo OW OW OW AAwwwooo OOOOooooo. At first I thought it was a bird until I realized it was much too loud for a bird. That’s right – it was a coyote calling out to the fire truck, whose siren he must have perceived to have been one of his packmates calling out to him. It’s wild (figuratively and literally in the Jack Hannah sense) to be working in the front yard raking leaves or whatever when, out of the blue you hear coyotes calling out, loudly, just over the ridge line.

Media_http3bpblogspot_eesne
In any case, long story short, Perritt and Mary Poole have picked up on the concept that we have these animals called “coyotes” and that they come out after dark and that they are dangerous to Rhett. This is mostly because LeeAnn and I will say things like: “Alright kiddos, we need to go home now so we can get kitty in because it’s getting dark and when it gets dark the coyote comes out.” So they vaguely know that coyotes and kitties don’t mix. Nowadays, even if we’re home when it’s getting dark outside and Rhett isn’t in yet, Mary Poole will often express concern for Rhett. She’ll say: “It’s getting dark outside, Mommy . . . It’s getting dark. Rhett need come inside?” To which LeeAnn will respond “Yes, we need to go get kitty in.” Mary Poole will nod and head to the door, open it and say loudly “Kitty, time come insye! Getting dark kitty! Time come insye! Kye-ro-tee comin’!”

Just hilarious and it just doesn’t get old.

I even got in on the action the other day. As per usual, for about three weeks every year, one of my weekend days is consumed with picking up leaves. (One of the joys of living in the “City in the Forest”). Leaf collection is typically an all-day affair for the appointed day. Last weekend, this meant I was finishing up after dark. LeeAnn was getting dinner ready and I could see Mary Poole and Perritt sitting down to eat. I could see them talking to LeeAnn but wasn’t sure what about. I finally came in just before dinner was on the table. Mary Poole greeted me at the door with this gem: “Daddy time come inside. Iss cold ousside. Getting dark outside, daddy. Kye-ro-tee is comin’ Come inside my house – house is nice iss snuggly inside.”

When I came in the kitchen, LeeAnn told me that unbeknownst to me, Mary Poole and Perritt had been trying to get my attention to alert me to the fact that it was getting dark outside and that the coyote was coming to get me. She said that was all they were talking about, or rather yelling at me through the window – “DADDY! Time come inside. Kye-ro-tee comin’!!!

While I doubt the coyotes have any interest in me, it’s heartwarming to know that my children do. I just hope we’re not scarring our children for life with visions of the kye-ro-tee beast that comes out after dark.

The Changing of the Guard

Media_http3bpblogspot_midqy
We're just about at the end of the fall leaf season here in Atlanta. As noted before, it's a great time of year - my favorite. I haven't been in years but when I was in college I would often travel up from Clemson to the Western North Carolina mountains to see the mountains all afire and hike a mountain or two or just drive around. As everyone knows though, timing is everything. Go too early or wait too long and you miss the show. It just seems to go so quickly every year.

Mary Poole and Perritt are a lot like that these days. Vestiges of their years and months as infants are seemingly disappearing daily. There hasn't been anything quite as noticeable as the passing of the paci though, with the exception of potty training, which is underway.

In any case, back to the paci. So over the months and years LeeAnn and I have been really delinquent in instituting a forceful separation of Perritt from his best friend. We just knew it was going to be ugly and we just couldn't bear to do it to the boy. He's just so sweet and nice. We didn't think his heart could take it. Going to the pediatrician for checkups had been uncomfortable because we knew the question would come up. "Anyone using a paci or bottle still?" Awkward silence. "Just one. A paci." And then we'd sort of glance sideways-like and point to Sir. Meanwhile he'd just be sitting there looking at us like "What?"

But you know, we could handle the pediatrician. We knew that if the doctor just knew how sweet Perritt was he would agree there was no harm in his paci friendship. Plus, he only used it for naps and bedtime. Plus we didn't really have any appetite for spending two nights not sleeping because of the crying when you forced a paci intervention.Layer in the fact that we could still sort of pass the twins off as our "babies" because of his paci and there just wasn't a lot of impetus to make this move.

Media_http1bpblogspot_gizpa
But the day came and we had to pull the trigger. We just had to try. So we did. The first night we asked him, "Hey Perritt, do you think we can just leave your paci here tonight" and we set the paci on top of his crib. He thought about it, looked at the paci, looked at us, clearly wise to our plan and took it down and put it in the crib and said "Just right dare." We put it back on top and said, "How about here. You can still have it, but it'll be right here". He looked at us again and went through some mental negotiations and decided that this agreement was ok, but that he wanted 2 pacis, probably in case one of them fell off. So we complied. Two pacis up on top (not one will drop).

Going in later that night, we found one paci was in his mouth and the other one on the floor. Prescient little tike. But we had failed we thought. But when we went in the next morning, it was back up on the top of the crib. Bubby had remembered the request and put it right back. So we knew he was trying.

So that night we tried again. The same thing - two pacis up on top - only when we went in later that night, he didn't have it in his mouth, one paci was up, one in the crib - but no paci in the mouth. Progress.

The third night, we dropped it to one paci and that one made it into the crib but not in his mouth.

Media_http1bpblogspot_vcdcf
The fourth night, it was one paci and it never left the top of the crib. It was funny though because in the middle of the typical Mary Poole/Perritt banter on their way to sleep we heard a lot of this on the monitor: "Paci going just right dare." As if he were talking himself off the no-paci ledge. When we went in the next morning he was so proud. "Paci just right dare. I no no need it."

But that paci stayed there all night. The next day we tried it again. Same thing. The paci never moved. The next day, we just took it away altogether and that was that. He didn't even mention it. Keep in mind this is the one thing he's had as part of his sleep routine since his birth. He literally had never slept without it. Not once. Not ever. And then one night, he just didn't.

No crying. No knashing of teeth. Just a little boy bidding his buddy a protracted goodbye. This was a couple of weeks ago now and I don't even know where those pacis are in the house. They're just, gone. Like so many other things I suppose. I guess I just thought there would be more pomp and circumstance about leaving something so integral behind. But like the leaves every fall, even big events can pass quickly and quietly, one leaf at a time.