When Your Child Won't Co-operate -That's My Favourite Session

I get this message all the time before a session: "Just warning you - my little one is really shy. He probably won't smile for you." And honestly? When I read that, I smile to myself. Because those are often the sessions I treasure most.

Here's something I want every parent to know before they arrive at a session: there is no such thing as a difficult child in my eyes. There are children who need a little more time. Children who are curious but cautious. Children who are hilarious when you're not watching. And children who, in the process of being completely, wonderfully themselves, give me images that stop people in their tracks.

I've been photographing families long enough to know that the children who arrive clinging to mum's leg are often the same ones running around laughing thirty minutes later - not because I "convinced" them of anything, but because I simply let them be. I followed their lead. I didn't ask for a smile. I just showed up, got low, and waited.

The best photographs I've ever taken happened when everyone stopped trying to perform - and started just being a family.

Why the "Won't Smile" Warning Doesn't Worry Me

When parents send me that little pre-session note, what I hear underneath it is: I love my child so much, and I want this to go well, and I'm a little nervous. That's completely natural. But here's the thing - pressure is the enemy of beautiful photographs. The moment a child senses that something is expected of them, the shutters come down.

So I don't ask for smiles. I don't count to three. I don't ask anyone to "say cheese." Instead, I show up with no agenda other than to document your family exactly as it is. Giggly, grumpy, distracted, bouncy, hiding-behind-dad, fascinated-by-a-rock - all of it is valid. All of it is beautiful.

Some of the most breathtaking images I have in my portfolio are of children looking at the ground. Or staring off into the distance at something only they can see. Or mid-sulk. Because those moments are real - and years from now, when your child is grown, those are the images that will make your heart ache with love.

I Was That Child

Here's something I don't always share, but I think it matters: I was an extremely shy child. Not just a little quiet - I mean the kind of shy where I'd hide behind my mum's legs at birthday parties, refuse to speak to adults I didn't know, and spend most of school events hovering at the edges wondering how everyone else seemed so comfortable just... being seen.

I don't use the word "shy" much these days, actually. I prefer "cautious." Because that's what it really was. I wasn't broken or difficult or something to be fixed. I was careful. I was observing. I was deciding whether a situation was safe before I gave it any of myself. That's not a flaw - that's wisdom in a small person's body.

What I remember most vividly from childhood is how it felt when adults tried to push me out of it. The "oh come on, don't be shy!" and the "just smile for the camera!" and the eyes of a whole room on me, waiting. It made everything ten times worse. What actually worked - the only thing that ever worked - was when someone simply got on with things and let me come to them in my own time. When the pressure lifted, I always did.

That little cautious kid is a huge part of why I photograph the way I do. I know exactly what it feels like to be her. And I know exactly what she needed.

How I Actually Work with Shy Kids

The short version: I ignore them. Well - not ignore them. But I don't make them the centre of attention. I chat with you, the parents. I might crouch down and look at something on the ground nearby. I let the child observe me from a safe distance and decide, in their own time, that I'm not so scary after all.

Children are extraordinarily good at reading adults. They know when someone wants something from them, and they know when someone is just... there. My whole approach is built around being just there - a calm, unhurried presence with a camera, who is apparently very interested in that interesting stick over there.

Nine times out of ten, curiosity wins. They creep closer. They peek around a parent's leg. They ask what I'm doing. And by the time they're asking to look through the camera themselves, I've already got the shot I wanted - the one of them forgetting I existed.

A few things I do in every session with a hesitant child

01

I arrive with zero expectations.

Before we even start, I'll tell you out loud: "There are no rules today. We're just going to hang out." Hearing that lands differently than you'd expect - it releases something in both parent and child.

02

I use parents as the anchor.

Instead of directing the child, I direct you - give you something to do together. When children see their parents relaxed and laughing, they relax too. It's contagious. I photograph what unfolds naturally from there.

03

I give them something to do, not something to feel.

Asking a child to "smile" is asking them to perform an emotion on command. Instead, I might ask them to show me how fast they can run, or how high they can jump, or to whisper a secret to dad. The laughter that follows is real - and it photographs that way.

04

I build in time to just exist.

Sessions aren't rushed. If the first fifteen minutes are spent exploring a puddle, that's fine with me. Getting comfortable takes as long as it takes - and I'd rather have thirty minutes of magic than an hour of forced poses.

05

I celebrate the in-between moments.

The shy glance. The hidden face in your neck. The tiny hand gripping your thumb. These aren't obstacles to the photos - they are the photos. Some of these make it onto my website as my absolute favourites.

A Story I Think About Often

A few years ago, a family arrived for their session with twin boys - one bubbly, one absolutely not having it. Within minutes of arriving, the second twin had positioned himself behind a tree and refused to come out. His mum was mortified. I told her not to worry, and I meant it.

So I photographed the willing twin with mum and dad for a while. And somewhere in that time, the hiding twin started watching. Then he started inching closer. Then he sat behind the tree but with his face peeking around it - and I got a shot of him watching his brother laugh. By the end of the session, both boys were climbing on dad and covered in grass stains.

That image of him behind the tree? It's the one his mum printed the largest.

Because it was him. Exactly as he was, on that day, at that age. Not performing. Not complying. Just being a small person in the world, on his own terms. And that is precisely what I'm here to capture.

If you're nervous about how your little one will go - please don't be. I've got you. I've got them. Let's just go and be your family for a little while.

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