People ask how a five-year-old delivers a real laugh on cue. The honest answer is that she doesn't. Her dad does.
On every set, Ben stands just behind the photographer's shoulder and performs what can only be described as interpretive nonsense. There is a bit with an invisible sandwich. There is a bit where he forgets his own name. On the golden-hour knitwear shoot, the frame everyone loves - the huge laugh, curls everywhere - is Zaria watching her father walk very slowly into a (padded, pre-agreed) apple tree.
The photographers all know him now. One books him as part of the package: "bring the dad, he's the shutter trigger." He has considered asking for a rate.
Somewhere in every session, if the light is right, the camera turns around for one frame of the two of them - her mid-cackle, him mid-bit. Those never go in the book. They go on our wall, which is the better book anyway.
The real trick, though, isn't the comedy. It's that shoot days feel like days out with Dad where a camera happens to be there. She has never once been asked to perform for a stranger. She's just been asked to keep laughing at her favourite person, which she was going to do anyway.