"Missing my daddy"

Ellie is just about ready to give up her afternoon nap (much to our chagrin). We still enforce "quiet time" in her room every day, but she usually spends the afternoon jumping around and singing. She's also trying out various strategies for getting us to come in and keep her company.

There's been the classic: "I'm thirsty. Can I have some water, please?"
And there's been the direct approach: "I'm not tired. I'm all done sleeping."
Then, the ever-sneaky: "I have to poop!" which doesn't work when we know she's just gone right before her "nap."

Her most recent try was "I hit my head! My head hurts!" However, when offered medicine for the aforementioned pain, she'll decline it. "No, it doesn't hurt now." She hasn't quite figured out how to stay consistent with her story, because we can still catch her out. I can ask, "Was your head hurting when you were crying in your bed?" and she'll forget, and say, "No."

She tried out "My head hurts!" with her father yesterday. Later that night, I was getting her ready for bed, when she volunteered the statement, "At my naptime today, I cried a lot." We went on to have the following conversation:

"Why did you cry so much, Ellie?"
"Because I was missing my daddy."
"Did you tell him that when he came in?"
"No, I told him my head hurts."
"Why did you say that, Ellie?"
"Because."
"Were you crying because your head hurt?"
"No, I was crying because I was missing my daddy."
I decided to go for the $64,000 question: "So your head didn't hurt?"
She answered, "It hurt a little, but that's not why I cried."