My salad dressing days

There is an almighty crash.

The husband and I rush upstairs to find the two suspects nursing minor injuries on the floor of the bedroom.

Neither will talk.

Thinking on our feet, we resort to police tactics and split them up, taking each to a separate interview room.

Suspect #1 confesses immediately: he wanted to know whether his twin sister was strong enough to give him a shoulder ride.

We quickly reassemble and put the story to Suspect #2 who is holding an opened packet of frozen spinach to her head.

She confirms Suspect #1’s version of events.

Both suspects are given a verbal warning and sent back to bed.