My mom recently sent me some photographs from my childhood, and they are amusing the hell out of me–not least because having now made it through the first two years of parenthood the notion that I was once a baby has some more visceral meaning for me.
Anyway, I present Mr. McLaren, age six weeks:
And, the slightly less demure looking-you-right-in-the-eyes version:
I apologize for the image quality, but cheap prints do not age well over the course of almost 33 years.
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