The best parenting advice I ever got

Here's the dealio:

I've mentioned before that I watch my sister's kids every Monday, all day long. I despise Mondays for one primary reason: I have to get up early. That's right, 6:45AM. Too early (I'm a loser, blah blah blah-- I know. But someday, I'll have to teach early morning seminary for 10 years and then I'll be glad I never set an alarm and slept in all these days. Just you watch.). I've also mentioned before that I am a pathetic morning/lack of or "inadequate" sleep person. So, every Monday, I wake up on the wrong side of the bed to the wrong sound of my alarm. Starts the day out just right.

Recently, on a Monday, I was implementing my promised punishment for the 2 year old crapping his pants. I have a very strict no-crapping-the-pants-when-Ashley-babysits rule. Every Monday, the two year old and I have a conversation that goes a little something like this:

Me: You MUST tell me when you have to go poop today.
2yr old: OK.
Me: You promise?
2 yr old: nods head.
Me: Cross your heart?
2 yr old: Nod.
Me: Hope to die?
2 yr old: Nod.
Me: Stick a thousand needles in your eye?
2 yr old: OK.
Me: If you don't tell me, and you poop in your pull-up, you're going to be in big trouble. You have to wear your pull-up on your head (a clean one, of course-- I'm not that evil) and clean up all the toys.
2yr old: Tries to hold in a smile and commits.

Two year old never tells me when he has to poop. I either catch him or just make him sit on the toilet. We have a pretty good success rate after lunch. Indeed, success on this Monday too-- right after lunch as scheduled.

Then... then, after his nap, two year old comes out and what has he done? That's right, crapped his pants. So we take care of it and then I tell him, "OK, time to put a pull-up on your head and clean up all the toys." Even though he thinks it's funny to have to wear a pull-up on your head, he's determined to be mad and throws a fit. During his fit, older siblings come home and rush to his rescue: "What's wrong? Are you OK? Can I have a hug?" Two year old storms off and closes himself in his room. Ten year old brother follows and lovingly knocks on his door, "Can I come in? Are you OK?" A few minutes later, ten year old and no longer flipping out two year old come out. And, here's the punch line-- the best parenting advice I ever got-- ten year old says,

"If you're just nice to him, he'll stop crying."

Duh.