Last night

It was quiet time. We were finally getting around to watching our Netflix Ned Kelly movies, both the Mick Jagger and the Heath Ledger versions. L was warned to settle down, no more jumping around.

L performs a headstand in the middle of the room.

"Alright, you're done, Miss. Bedtime."

"Nooooooo!"

"You were just told to settle down and you are not listening."

"I am!"

"You just did a headstand."

"No, I didn't."

"L, we just watched you stand on your head. Now you're telling a lie."

"I didn't stand on my head!"

She performs another one.

"OK, L, that was a headstand. That's it. Get into bed!"

"I wasn't doing it, it was only my body."

(Oh God, she's got some sort of disassociative disorder...)

"Your head is connected to your body. Your head told your body to do a headstand, so you did it."

L, now very frustrated says through gritted teeth, "I wasn't trying to stand on my head! I was trying putting my hat on with no hands!"

Sure enough, in the center of the floor, lies her hat.

"Oh."