How We Got Our Babies Into Commercials (Without Getting Scammed)

The legitimate path is short: take a few natural photos yourself, submit them to licensed talent agencies that represent babies in your market, sign with one that offers you a standard commission-only contract, and let them submit your baby to castings. That's it. No paid portfolio, no modeling school, no fees to be seen.

The photos that work are the opposite of fancy: your baby in plain clothes, natural light, no hat, clear face — one smiling front shot, one profile, maybe one full body, taken on your phone. Agencies want to see the actual child, because baby photos expire fast anyway (you'll re-submit updated snapshots every couple of months). A professional newborn shoot with props is actually less useful to them.

One honest expectation-setting note: geography matters. Most baby work concentrates around major markets — LA, New York, Atlanta, and other production cities. If you're near one, this is very doable. If you're far from all of them, opportunities will be thinner, and no honest agency will pretend otherwise.

Commercials run through the same door as modeling — a legitimate talent agency — because brands and casting directors fill baby roles through agencies, not through moms who email the brand. Once your baby is signed, the agent submits her for castings that fit; you'll get short-notice calls, and your job is mostly being available, keeping photos current, and getting to the casting with a fed, rested baby.

What casting actually looks for in babies is temperament over beauty: a baby who stays calm with strangers, in new places, under lights, handled by people she just met. An easygoing, well-rested baby books work. This is the part nobody expects me to say, but I watched it play out four times — my girls' sleep routines were quietly one of their biggest professional assets. A baby who napped on schedule and woke up happy was a baby who worked well on set.

Also know that production plans around babies, not the other way around: shoots for infants are short, regulated, and often cast twins or backups because everyone knows babies have opinions. If your baby has a meltdown at a casting, you haven't blown anything. They've seen it hourly.

One rule catches almost every scam: legitimate agencies make money when your child books work — never before. The FTC has warned about modeling scams for years, and they all share the same skeleton: you pay first. Upfront "registration" or "listing" fees, mandatory photo shoots with their photographer at inflated prices, "modeling classes" your baby supposedly needs (a baby cannot take a class — think about it), or a paid spot in a database they promise casting directors browse.

The recruitment style is a tell too: scouts who approach you at the mall gushing that your baby is exactly what they're looking for, high-pressure "only two spots left today" offers, and guarantees of work. Real agencies guarantee nothing, because nobody can — and they don't need to hunt in food courts; they have inboxes full of submissions.

Before signing anything: search the company's name plus "scam," check for state licensing where required (California, for example, regulates talent agencies), and walk away instantly from anyone who wants money to "get started." We paid nothing to any agency before our girls worked — across four working kids and years of bookings. That's not luck. That's just what legitimate looks like.

For real commercial work with real brands — yes, practically speaking, you need an agency. National-brand shoots and TV commercials are cast through casting directors who source talent from agencies; they don't take submissions from parents directly. The agency relationship is also your protection: they negotiate rates, handle contracts, and know the child-labor rules that productions must follow.

What you can do without an agency: small local businesses, some brand "ambassador" programs on social media, and open casting calls (the Gerber Photo Search being the famous one). Those are fine dip-a-toe options, but be extra alert in that space — the no-agency zone is exactly where scams concentrate, because there's no professional gatekeeper.

Getting an agent for a baby is also less of a fortress than people imagine. Agencies keep baby rosters deep and turnover is constant, because babies age out of categories in months. Decent natural photos, a workable location, and an easygoing baby give you a genuine shot. All four of my working girls went through agencies — and the agencies found them work we could never have found ourselves.

Less than you'd think, and different than you'd think. Agencies look for: a happy, adaptable temperament (the single biggest factor — a baby who's calm with strangers and new environments), clear recent photos, standard sizing (samples come in average sizes, so the 50th-percentile baby often books more than the strikingly beautiful 99th-percentile one), and — this surprises parents — an organized, low-drama parent. You are part of the package. Agencies pass on great babies with difficult parents constantly.

Availability is a real credential too: castings come with a day or two of notice, so a family that can actually show up gets more submissions. And in the baby division specifically, agencies love a well-rested, well-fed baby with a predictable routine, because that baby is pleasant during the 10 a.m. casting window.

What they are NOT looking for: professional portfolios, pageant experience, or a baby who's had "training." Anyone who tells you your baby needs those things before an agency will sign her is selling you something — see the scam question above.

It varies widely by market and job type. Print and catalog work for babies commonly pays an hourly rate in the range of roughly $25 to $150 an hour depending on the market and client, while national TV commercials pay far more — union commercial session fees run several hundred dollars a day, and residuals (payments each time the spot airs) can multiply that substantially over a campaign's life. A single national commercial can meaningfully out-earn a year of print work; a small local job might pay a flat hundred or two. Your agency takes its commission (around 20 percent) off the top.

Under SAG-AFTRA and state law, productions using babies follow strict rules — infants can only work very short periods, with mandated conditions — so nobody's baby is pulling long shifts regardless of pay.

Honest big-picture: baby modeling is lovely supplemental money and a fun family story, not a family income plan. Work is irregular, castings cost you gas and afternoons, and dry months are normal even for booked kids. Treat every dollar as the baby's (see the Coogan question below), enjoy the wins, and keep your financial plans built on the grown-ups' income.

The Gerber Photo Search runs as an official online entry on Gerber's own site — you submit photos (and typically a short video) of your baby during the entry window, free of charge, and Gerber selects its "Spokesbaby." The winning family receives a large cash prize (it has been $25,000, with recent years' prize packages varying — check the current year's official rules) plus the Gerber gig itself. Entry windows are announced by Gerber and are typically in the spring, but always verify the current year's dates and rules on gerber.com directly.

Two warnings, because this contest is scam bait every single year: the ONLY entry point is Gerber's official site — any site, DM, or "agent" charging an entry fee, or any message telling you your baby "has been selected" for a contest you didn't enter, is a scam. Gerber never charges to enter.

Keep perspective too: hundreds of thousands of babies enter. Submit the cute photo, enjoy the fun of it, and treat the agency path — not the contest — as the actual road into baby modeling. The contest is a lottery ticket. The agency is a career door.

A Coogan account is a blocked trust account required by law in several states — California most famously, along with New York and others — where a percentage (typically 15 percent) of a child performer's gross earnings must be deposited and locked away until the child turns 18. It's named for Jackie Coogan, the child star whose parents spent essentially everything he earned — the law exists so that can't legally happen again.

Whether your baby needs one depends on where she works: if she books jobs in a Coogan state, production will require the account before she can be paid, and your agency will walk you through setting one up at a bank or credit union that offers them. It's straightforward — bring the trust paperwork, the account number goes to production, the deduction is automatic.

Even where it's not required, the principle is worth adopting voluntarily: the money is your child's, not the family's. We treat our girls' earnings that way regardless of statute — it keeps the whole endeavor what it should be: something we do WITH our kids for their future, never something we do TO them for ours. If the money ever stops being theirs, the whole thing has gone wrong.

Yes — breastfed babies work in this industry constantly, and productions are used to it. Infant shoots are short and heavily regulated, sets working with babies are legally required to accommodate their needs, and you as the parent are with your baby the entire time — you're never separated. You can absolutely nurse at a casting or on set; ask for a quiet corner and you'll get one, because a fed, content baby is exactly what production wants on camera.

Practical rhythm from our experience: nurse shortly before call time so your baby arrives topped off and content, build in buffer so you're not latching in the parking lot at your call time, and pack like a realist — extra outfit, burp cloths, the works. Babies on set alternate between working minutes and being entirely off the clock, so there's far more downtime for feeds than parents expect.

The deeper answer: nothing about breastfeeding disqualifies your baby or complicates anything meaningfully. I was a nursing mama through our family's whole modeling journey. The industry bends around babies — legally, logistically, and practically — because it has no choice. Your nursing relationship never has to bend around the industry.