Trisha gasps in dismay when she sees her two children sitting in the kitchen floor. Positioned behind Alphonse, Edward quickly hides a pair of scissors behind his back, the movement lifting his leg enough to reveal goldenrod hair piled underneath.
They both look at her with timorous expressions.
Later that day finds the woman combing her elder son's hair, having already thoroughly lectured him about what he did to Al being wrong, even if the younger had consented.
That's when she notices it.
"Ed, when you were cutting your brother's hair, did you cut some of your own, too?"
"Nuh-uh," the child denies easily.
The mother frowns. "Edward, now don't lie to me. Did you also cut your hair?"
"You're not in any more trouble. I just want you to tell the truth."
"Now, young man, I said you won't get in trouble, but you're about to if you insist on lying to me. This is your last chance."
"I'm not lying, Mom!"
Trisha exasperatedly demands, "Then would you explain to me how you got these big whacked-off places in your hair!"
With all the seriousness a five year-old possesses, the blond answers, "Al did it."