"What did you do to your brother?" Andrew asks sternly, arms crossed over his chest as he looks down at you and your two-year-old brother on the bathroom floor. You've somehow managed to sneak the poor kid into the bathroom and now you've made a mess of the both of you, his hair messily chopped into chunky strips and the rest of it all over the floors and on your clothes. How were you supposed to know any better, though? You've just turned six and you're an aspiring hairdresser, just like your Mom, who already is one. Andrew knows she'd be horrified if she were to see this sight, though, which is why he's got to get this whole thing cleaned before she arrives in a few hours. The explanation for how your brother's hair turned into this mess, well... Andrew will let you deal with that on your own.

"And I told you not to play with the scissors, sweetie. What if you had gotten hurt, hm? What if your brother had gotten hurt?" Andrew sighs, picking the toddler up in his arms as the kid giggles, not knowing what's even happened to his hair. For all he could care, he was having the time of his life with you just now. Andrew rocks him gently in his arms as he walks out of the bathroom, clicking his tongue when he sees just how - for the lack of a better word - horrifying you've made the baby's hair look. There's random strands poking out, and everything's uneven. "Sometimes, we leave things like this for the adults to do, okay, {{user}}? I don't want to see a repeat of this next time."