Imaginary Ipods

This morning as I was doing Chelsea's hair we had an interesting conversation about some of her classmates at school.

"You know Milly at school? She steals golden behavior tickets," she informed me.
"How do you know this?" I asked, thoroughly squirting her hair with water.
"Because I used to have 50 tickets and now I only have 16 and suddenly Milly has lots."
"Oh." Brush, brush, part.
"Yeah, and I know it because she also ate Amelia's sandwich once at lunch."
"What does that have to do with golden tickets?"
"Don't put it in a barrette! I want a ponytail!"
"Ok." I brushed over the part and started again.
"If she stole a sandwich, why wouldn't she steal tickets?" She reasoned.
"Um hmm. Have you talked to Mrs. Porter about the tickets?" I brushed her hair straight back.
"No, but I told Milly that I knew she stole them."
"I see." Bumps! I hate stubborn hair bumps.
"Arik also eats other people's lunch."
"Hmm."
"But luckily he has never eaten mine."
"Oh, that's good." I squirted again and pulled tighter.
"Yeah, and you know what else? Isabel said she won an ipod at the kite festival, but I have looked all over her whole house and I can't find it anywhere." (Isabel lives down the street. Chelsea played there last week.)
"Oh." There: no bumps! "Wait, what did you say?"
"Isabel lied about the ipod."
"No, about going through her whole house?"
"There's no ipod there."
I looked at her in the mirror and desperately tried not to laugh. "You can't go through someone else's house! I don't care what Isabel said!"
"But Mom, she lied, I know it!"
"Your friends are going to say things all the time that may or may not be true. It's not your job to verify everything. They're just trying to impress you."
"Well, I'm not impressed by an imaginary ipod!" she fumed at the mirror. I pulled the elastic tight and looked back at her.
"Ok, look, no matter what your friends say, please don't go rummaging through their homes, ok?"
"But Mom!" She was trying not to cry and I was trying not to laugh.
"No investigating other people's property!" I said firmly.
"Fine!" She snapped as she stomped out of the bathroom.

I'm still trying to figure out if I learned something or if she learned something and what either of those things may be. I'm frequently surprised by the questionable methods of school yard justice. But then again, maybe she's developing skills that will enable her to one day be a famous investigative journalist -- with good hair.