FireGirl has started lying to me. I think. I'm pretty sure.
She has realized that if she cries, really cries, and fakes an owie, then Momma will come running.
The first incident was two nights ago. I had just gotten her out the bath, clean diaper, pajamas, whole works. She had been playing for about five min. Suddenly she starts grabbing her butt and crying "Ow! ow! ow!" Screaming & crying. Rolling on the floor grabbing her butt. I put her in my lap, look down her pants/diaper. See nothing. "Are you sure you have an owie?" "Ouch!" And she is crying. Tears streaming down her face. I start to get anxious. Maybe a bug got in her diaper while I was changing her & is biting her? Maybe... I don't know, but my daughter appears to be in real pain. So I pick her up & take her into her room. Take off her pants & diaper, and lay her face down on the changing table so I can get a look at her butt. Nothing. With all the horrible diaper rashes this child has had in the past, her butt is beautiful perfect baby skin. Not a bump or red mark in sight. Still a little concerned because of all her past rashes, I cover her butt in Aquaphor and re-diaper her. She starts giggling while I'm putting the lotion on her. I put her down, she's happy as a clam and runs off laughing.
This morning, my parents had come over to pick her up so they could watch her today. I told FireGirl I was getting in the shower. She said "Noooo!" I told her I was dirty & needed a shower. "No!" She's visibly upset. I sit down & talk with her for a minute. I explain that I'm dirty & she points to a small stain on my PJ top. I said "That's right, I'm dirty. I'm gonna go take a shower so I can get clean". She says "Yep!" and points down the hallway toward the bathroom. "That's right. I'll be back in just a few minutes". I walk down the hallway and hear her playing happily with Grandpa. Shut the bathroom door. Get undressed. Hear her screaming crying. I hurriedly throw my clothes back on & run down the hall. "What happened?" "Nothing" "No really, what happened?" "Really. Nothing. We asked her if she wanted more milk & she started bawling." She is still sobbing. Tears streaming down her face. Real tears. Crying, sobbing. I ask her what's wrong. She whimpers. All three of us are hovering over her, trying to figure out what's wrong. She slowly raises her hand and says "Ouch" quietly. I ask her if I can look at it and reach for her hand. She holds both arms up to me. I scoop her up & sit on the floor, placing her in my lap so I can examine her hand. And... she smiles. Crying's over. She's fine. She leans back on me for a minute, then stands up, turns around & hugs me hard. Then runs off squealing happily, grabs a toy, runs back to me, and sits at my side playing happily. I look up at my parents in disbelief. Did my daughter just fake being injured to get me to come out of the shower? We think so.
The scary part? Assuming she is faking (which it seems), she's really good at it. As in, I can't tell the difference, and neither can her grandparents who watch her several days a week. As in, when she does it, I can't not check her out to make sure she's okay, but every time I do & she's faking, I'll be reinforcing the behavior.
And I can't believe this has started already. My angel. My perfect little angel.