I know. What the hell kind of parent am I?!
He heads towards some steps, trips, and hits his shins on the step. Very "Auwie!" since those steps are made of marble. So he starts to cry.
My husband comforts him for a few minutes. Then it's my turn.
As I hold him, he looks at me with hound dog eyes and says in a teary voice, "May I have a toy to make me not cry?"
I know. What the hell kind of parent am I?
The kind of parent who knows when to bribe and when not to.