If you ever get the notion in your helpful brain that you should, in fact, cut your daughter's lovely hair as a 'surprise' for your wife, I'm going to go ahead and advise you that this is not a plan that will earn you brownie points, unless you are, in fact, Vidal Sassoon. Whom you are not. All brownie points earned thus far will be VOID. NULL AND VOID AND NULL. You will be in brownie point debt. Hell even. Dog House Brownie Point HELL. No brownies will ever be made again unless I happen to crave them.
You may not cut her hair. EVER. Even if it 'seems' long. Even if there is a plane propeller, a wild badger, grandma's pacemaker, gum, bread dough, a money clip full of money, a hot wheels track, Amy Winehouse's weird legs, a barbie head, an airplane banner, car parts, an Olympic medal, a missing person, the power line, your iphone, the holy grail, a basket of kittens, Jesus, a chainsaw, chicken wire, you career, a machine gun or the meaning of life tangled into it. Just step backward with the scissors and consult the girl's mother. If someone has broken in and has placed a gun to your head, instructing you to cut your daughter's bangs off at their source, stall them until your wife can get there so that you can ask her if it's okay. Which it isn't.
Thirdly. You chose a mullet. My beautiful baby girl has an honest to God mullet. If you wake up with a picture of a clown crudely shaved into the side of your head- do not be surprised. It took me a YEAR to grow out the natural mullet she was born with. A YEAR.
Look: She has the same haircut now as this guy from, "don't judge my hair dot com".
The only way you can tell that the following photo is not a true picture of her, is because she doesn't have an addam's apple or a shaving cut on her neck in real life.
All kinds of creepy.