Though we had identical photos taken at the same age, I’m pretty sure this is Mom.
A “proof” shot.
I remember the photographer standing me up on a box in his studio and ducking under the hood, coming out, ducking back under to get his focus right. Then BLAM went the explosive flash bar, I was sure I was permanently blinded. I cried so hard! But there was no getting out of the 5 or 6 shots that were demanded. I wonder if that’s why I still hate my picture to be taken?
When it came time for my mom to get my pic taken the way hers had been, she took in a proof print, a huge dishrag to wrap around me like her mom’s mom had wrapped around her, and some cloth flowers to hold. When she showed me my pics beside hers, I couldn’t tell the difference. Now, being older, I can see the overbite on her sweet little face. She was a little doll, and had her dad wrapped around her little princess’ baby finger.
NOTE: I didn’t take this photo, but it’s mine after all these years.