When Elliot was 12 months old, I found out that not only was I pregnant again, but that there were two little heartbeats, as the technician put it, pointing to the two flashing little stars on the screen. Once I had calmed down from my initial hysterical laughter (ultrasound tech: You’re taking this very well. A lot of women cry when they find out it’s twins. Me: Um, this is hysterics. I have a one-year-old and you’re telling me I’ve having two more?), I worried about how this would affect my precious child.  We were so close. Would adding two needy tiny infants to the mix ruin his life?

As it turns out, it probably saved him from being spoiled through too much attention. And he still managed to get plenty of notice. But that’s not the point of my post.

We decided that whenever possible, Donn would take Elliot with him when he ran errands, so that Elliot could have a “special time” with Daddy. And as the twins got older, they started getting their own one-on-one times with me or Donn. We figured this was a good way to ensure that each of our 3, so close in age, got some personalized attention. We do not call these “dates” because that is a creepy term to describe taking your own child somewhere. And I have really fond memories of the various times we’ve managed to get them in throughout the years—it will come as no surprise to learn that we are not hyper-organized in this, as in anything. We do them sporadically, once or twice a year, rather than the once or twice a month originally visualized.

This too-long introduction is simply to highlight some of the pics Ilsa took on a recent outing with her dad. She took my camera.

first, they went out for pizza

then, they wandered around, photographing each other…

going into interesting-looking shops…

taking self-portraits…

photographing interesting-looking people on the street…

or standing in the rain…

they went for hot chocolate…

Ilsa coveted these tights and shoes…

and then they got back in the car…

and came home.