Night, night. Don't let the bed bugs bite.

So Christa spent the weekend with a friend's family. They went to Glenwood Springs and stayed in a hotel and celebrated her friend, Justin's, 8th birthday.


I know. Justin is a friend--and he's a boy. But that is beside the point when you are 8 years old. Really.

Rob and I met up with the thoroughly partied-out parents and kiddos on Sunday for lunch. At one point, the mom leaned over to me and said, "So, Christa was explaining to Justin that she had to wear pajamas with long pants."

"Hhhhhhm." I was wondering what Christa's explanation was. I hadn't gone into the whole "modesty talk" with her, figuring she was only 8 1/2 and we could hold off a bit longer.

"Well, she explained to Justin that she needed to wear the pants because of the bugs in her bed that bit her legs."

Excuse me?

At this point, my friend has my complete attention.

"Yeah, Christa told Justin the bugs are a real problem."

I was flabbergasted. Bumfuzzled. And completely embarrassed. Bed bug problem? Not in my bedsheets!

So I called Christa over and said, "Christa, Justin's mom told me you mentioned that bugs have been biting your legs."

"Yeah, mom. You know about that." She points to a small red spot on her ankle--one spot. "Remember how that bug bit me a couple of days ago?"

"Christa, that was one bug bite. You do not have lots of bugs in your bed biting you."

"Well, mom, this bite really bothers me."

I rolled my eyes, my friend smothered a laugh, and Christa went back to enjoying her lunch with Justin.

Kids. Didn't someone once say they say the darndest things?

Too true.