I don't go creeping downstairs yet.
It's too early.
But I'm awake, and have nothing to do.
My sketchbook is downstairs.
I'll go grab my sketchbook.
And maybe take a peek at the presents.
No, too early.
I creep downstairs and go to the tree
And almost squeal with joy at
All the presents.
I realize I might have
Blown my cover
And I scramble back into bed,
Covers over my head.
Forgot my sketchbook.