Monday night, both the guys went to bed early. I, however, have been getting ENTIRELY too much beauty sleep lately. So, as I was waiting for my coach to turn back into a pumpkin, I browsed Facebook, read blogs, and watched a rerun of my beloved Alton Brown. As I finished the episode "Don't Be Chicken of Dumplings" I heard one of the boys clomping down the hall. Expecting the cowboy (who generally is up and down a couple of times every night), I was surprised to see the manchild (who, once asleep, is comatose until his second snooze alarm).
Kevin walked into the bathroom and closed the door (again, unusual, as our bathroom doubles as the family meeting room. Seriously, I haven't shaved my legs in privacy since 1984. George Orwell may have been on to something.) Anyway . . . After a few seconds, I heard the shower running. Minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom, walked toward his bedroom, turned around and came to the den and stared at me with squinty eyes. I stared back, and, recognizing the oddly familiar look on his face, I smiled and said, "Whatcha doin' Kev?" Blankly he asked, "What time is it?" As I replied it was nearing midnight, he rubbed his wet hair with a puzzled look, then turned and went back to bed.
He has been known to sleepwalk from time to time, sleepTALK, even.
SleepShowering, however, is a new phenomenon.