Last night, a few minutes after bedtime, comes this gem: “He threw a hot dog in my room!”

Followed quickly by: “No, I didn’t! I was in my bed the whole time.”

The offended child continued to insist that her brother had indeed thrown a hot dog into her room. So I finally get off my tush to go investigate.

* click on the light *

“OK, show me what he threw into your room.”

Child stumbles blindly around her room (easy to do, as it is a disaster area most days, last night was no exception) and cannot find anything. “He did.”

* summon other child *

“What. did. you. throw. in her room.” (it was not a question, actually).

Child walks to the back of the room, past the barbie dollhouse and old computer that they “play” on and next to the window. Bends down. And stands up with…

a hot dog.

You can’t make this up. Yes, I might have yelled, because I don’t really care for hot dogs to be distributed randomly in the bedroom areas.

Finally, my dogs enjoyed half a hot dog apiece, and they went to bed.