The B was having a performance that would shame Oscar hall of famers. He wanted "Mama" to carry him but since Mama was busy talking to his great grandma, Mama did not pay much attention to lil tornado. I was letting them listen to his whining and endless diatribe of "Mama ... mama ... huhuhu ... mama .. whooo ... mama ..." We were laughing about how noisy lil B was when suddenly, I felt a lot of pain on my chin and I saw lil B crying and holding his head. It didn't take a lot of calculation for me to realize that he had banged his head against my chin. Even if I was in so much pain (you never know how strong a baby's skull is until they slam it against your own head or face) I grabbed him and carried him and started checking him for any signs of bruise or wound. As I was doing this (while praying hard in my head) I noticed something disturbing. Where there should be a wail, I heard coos and giggles. True enough, when I looked at the B's face, he started playing peek-a-boo with Mommy.
Sigh. What a manipulator my son is. He orchestrated the entire thing to get me to carry him. He probably realized that if he "managed" to hurt himself, Mommy will panic and carry him instantly. And I fell for it. Hook. Line. Sinker.
I don't know whether to hand him his Oscar award or pull my hair out in frustration. And to top it off, my chin still hurts, 12 hours later.