Odd thing happened to me last night at 3 a.m., too.
Son: (Mysteriously standing by my side of the bed in our room. Our kids don't get up at night and have never, ever come into our room while we're asleep.) "Hey, Dad!"
Me: "Huh? Wha tha fu...? I mean, what's going on, buddy? Is everything OK?"
S: "You don't love me."
M: "Huh? Wha the fu...? I mean, WHAT?"
S: "You think I'm a fussbudget."
M: "A what?" (Still in the waking-up-trying-to-process phase here.)
S: "A fussbudget! You do!"
M: "Who even says that word? Are you even awake?"
S: "I don't like the mean butterflies!"
M: "Ohhhkay. Back to bed, buddy. And I do love you, more than anything."
S: "Alright." (Goes back to bed.)
Zero recollection of any of it this morning, of course. And, seriously, who uses the word "fussbudget"? I know for damn sure I never have.