Milo recently informed his class that he "works in photos", which caused a small diplomatic incident with a classmate whose dad is an actual photographer. So, for the record, here is what his job looks like.
A shoot day starts with the great outfit negotiation. The clothes arrive chosen by the client; Milo's contribution is deciding which item is "the itchy one" (there is always an itchy one) and lobbying against it. He loses graciously roughly half the time.
On set - which is usually a park, a fence, or the famous tree - he works in bursts. Photographers who are good with kids know the rhythm: two minutes of the shot they need, then one minute of the shot Milo needs, which is generally him jumping off something. The swing session last autumn was the perfect trade - the photographer got her close-up frames between pushes, and Milo got pushed. Everybody billed it as work.
The actual skill he's developed is one adults find hardest: he ignores the camera completely. Not performing for it, not shying from it. It's just there, like weather. The photographer says you can't teach it, you can only avoid untraining it, which is why we've never once told him to "smile properly".
He gets paid in a savings account he can't touch and an ice cream he can. He considers this arrangement fair. His agent - his mum - concurs.