He snuck into the 'junk drawer' in the kitchen (probably trying to scavenge some gum) and found a pair of scissors.
I had tuned the both of them out (I was making supper) and was oblivious of what was going on (in my defense, Starchy was home as well, so we both can take our names off the "Parent of The Year" lists).
The next thing I know, The Dude comes running in the kitchen, holding the scissors, screaming "I didn't do it, I didn't do it!". Two steps behind him was HP. She was in full-on freak out mode. You know, the scream where no sound is coming out. That kind of spaz.
Starchy and I knew that The Dude was guilty so (channeling my best imitation of MY mother, Gramma D) I gave him one chance to tell the truth. Surprising the socks off of both Starchy and I, The Dude fessed up immediately (hence, avoiding major punishment and instead getting praised for telling the truth...could he be smarter than we think?).
We don't know what possessed him to chop off chunks of his sister's white/blond hair. We can only be grateful no one was hurt...and that it wasn't her bangs.
Never a dull moment.