And my mother's son

And here is the all conclusive evidence that I am a junior version of my mum.
Just take a look at the original junior version. Yup, this is she, being held by my papa, who clearly has a corroding and ever more clearly ageing portrait hiding in the attic.
The inquisitive glance, the natty hairstyle, the sheer adorable cuteness of it all.
Ah me, well as long as I stop looking like a girl by the time I hit nursery-age I'm sure it will all be fine.