I remember being young, 8 or 9 years old, and Dad had all these props in his studio, an entire wall of so many different things. I would sneak in there right before his senior appointments would start, belly crawl under a posing chair, hide behind blocks, back up against a wall, knees to my chin, peering through some cracks, and I would watch the whole photo session. I started learning this craft right then and there, how to set up the shot, how to talk to the customer, and most importantly, how to be professional. He found me one time, and to be funny he took this tripod and started trying to "store it" back there. The customer was in the studio with us, and dad's cramming this tripod back behind stuff, talking to them like nothing is going on, and he's jabbing me with it the whole time. He called me out on the next wardrobe change, and now I understand why he wasn't mad. Photography is in my genes.