cover blown.

Bergen is a night owl.

I guess he inherited it straight from both of his parents.

And occasionally a part of his solitary evening involves him lying in bed and working out plans to quietly enter our bedroom after we have fallen asleep and cuddling up under the covers with us for the remainder of the night.

Now – I’ve always known this was true.

I mean, a boy in your bed the next morning is a pretty easy give away.

Recently, however, Bergen’s slip of the tongue gave him away twice.

First time:

“I don’t care for that one squeaky area at the bottom of the steps,”

Bergen confided.

“It always gives me away when I try to sneak downstairs at night.”

Second time:

While searching the cabinet for some pants, I presented him with a pair of zip-off hiking pants.

“Nah – I don’t think I’ll wear those,” he said seriously.

“They’re too loud.  They make too much noise when I sneak downstairs.”

I think the real question here is – why is he even bothering to sneak at all when his plans have been so obviously revealed to me?