Hanna (almost 11 years old) has been complaining (among other things) about how one piece of hair doesn’t fall the right way when she’s combing it.

I have found myself back peddling into the next room when I notice she’s in front of the mirror about to start combing because inevitably there are some elephant-sized groans followed by a toss of the brush and sometimes a “My hair is the worst ever!” kicker. I fear for my safety and the safety of the mirror.

So the other day when she pointed out a small tuft of strangely placed hair in the very spot she has often pointed out as problematic, I wondered what had happened.

On closer inspection, it was very obvious her hair had been cut…badly.

It was a really strange hair-cut that came with a lot of “Who Dunnit?” kind of questions.

Sadly, my first inkling was to blame the four year old.

I hate to even admit such a thing but she is terribly mischievous and she has been known to place items on her sisters’ heads while they slept and then laugh about it in the morning when they wake up with a toy monkey across their faces or a princess headband, so it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that she could have taken a pair of kindergarten craft scissors and attempted to fix Hanna’s problem, you know, as a favour.

I later decided there was no way anyone could have done this to Hanna, but Hanna.

I explained to her she had nothing to worry about and that toddlers often gave themselves hair-cuts because they simply didn’t know any better.

Then I remembered she was almost eleven and we agreed to smile at each other and chalk it up to a great life lesson where no one was harmed.

Here are the details in the language of a favourite old, family board game—Clue.

Of course I lost with my initial guess: Chloe did it. In Hanna’s bed while she slept. With doll scissors.

Hanna did it.

In my bathroom.

With my razor.